


How We Met

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Confident Tony, Explicit Sexual Content, Get Together, Graduate Student Tony, Hooker AU, M/M, Older Steve, Relationship Issues, The Backseat Blow Job is a Classic, Uncertain Steve, Youger Tony, hooker!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Life was pretty simple for Tony - work on his graduate thesis, hang out with his robotics projects in his unusual apartment, and fuck people for money. At least, it was simple until he met Steve Rogers.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> No schedule for this one, I'll be throwing up chapters as soon as they're ready. 
> 
> Thanks to ashes0909 for beta <3

Tony turned to look in the mirrored back wall of the elevator, tugging his sleeves under his jacket until they were crisp and smoothing a few wayward hairs into place. As the elevator climbed, he took his phone out and reviewed the info in the app: _Royal Hotel, room 809, name is Sam._

His final preening complete, he turned, just in time for the elevator doors to open, and exited. At the end of the hall was 809. He knocked. The door was opened by a man in a suit with a somewhat sardonic smile and a built-in eye roll. Tony liked him immediately. “Sam?” he asked, holding out a hand. “I’m Tony.”

Sam took the hand and shook it, drawing Tony in and closing the door behind him. “Hi, Tony. Thanks for coming.” He sounded somewhat resigned, like he was gearing up for something unpleasant. Now that he was inside, Tony saw that there was another man in the room - tall, dirty blonde, delightfully broad, and looking at Tony in surprise.

“Tony - Steve, Steve - Tony.” Sam gestured between them.

“Who?” Steve asked, his surprise darkening into a suspicious frown. Tony made to introduce himself, but halted his progress across the room as Sam pulled Steve into private conversation.

“He’s your date,” Sam hissed. That was interesting. The name on the e-transfer had definitely been Sam, but he was handing Tony off to his friend? Tony strained to hear while attempting to look politely disinterested.

 _“My_ date? Who is he?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I hired him from that place Clint mentioned the other day.”

“Hired? What do you mea- Are you kidding me?” Steve’s voice took on an edge. “That place Clint was _joking_ about?”

“Steve.”

“You hired me a prosti-” Steve cut off, eyes flicking over to Tony, who was leaning against the wall as casually as possible. He tried to school his expression into something less than the amused smirk it threatened to be. His own gaze stayed glued to his phone, pretending to be absorbed with something of vital importance, while he watched the argument with his peripheral vision. Maybe Steve would refuse to take him and he’d get to go home early. Wouldn’t matter; he still got paid.

“I hired you a _date,”_ Sam clarified. “Because you need one for this, and you didn’t even try to get one on your own.”

“Sam…” Steve ran a hand through his hair, sending the smooth strands wild again. His voice lowered further, but Tony could still make out his hissed words. “He’s a _guy.”_

Sam’s eyebrow cocked, and Tony held back a laugh. “Tell me I’m wrong,” Sam said, no nonsense.

Steve’s eyes shifted to Tony again, and he could feel the gaze brush over him. Steve sighed. “You’re not wrong. But -”

“No buts. Take the kid to the party. You need someone on your arm. Prove to yourself that no one will give a shit if you show up with a guy so that someday, when you meet someone you like, you won’t be too crippled by fear to ask them yourself. This is a practice run, Steve.” Sam clapped him on the arm and walked out, giving Tony a little nod as he passed.

Finally alone, Tony tucked his phone in his pocket and crossed the room, offering his hand to Steve to shake. “Tony.”

Steve blushed bright red, but took it. “Uh, Steve.”

Tony gave Steve his most encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, Steve. People do this kind of thing all the time. It’ll be great, I promise. You get all the benefits of having someone pretty on your arm, without having to worry about if your date is having a good time.” Tony winked.

Steve’s jaw set as if he was about to face the guillotine rather than a high-society party. “Right.”

“Good.” It appeared that Tony would have to be the one taking charge tonight. By his bearing, Steve was the kind of person that would be more comfortable on the frontlines, than in a tux, but this was Tony’s speciality, and he certainly didn’t mind taking the steering wheel. “Ready to go?”

Steve gestured awkwardly at a small velvet box lying on the bed next to his empty garment bag. “Just those.” He tugged at his french cuffs and frowned.

“Let me.” Tony snatched up the box and popped out the cuff links, tiny American flags, then pulled Steve’s wrist towards him, deftly folding the cuffs into place and pinning them closed. He could feel the discomfort radiating off the man, so he focused on breathing calmly, a little more obviously than usual. After a moment, he heard Steve begin to copy the rhythm unconsciously. “So where are we headed tonight?”

Steve shrugged, shaking out his sleeves and straightening his jacket when Tony released his cuffs. “Just an awards ceremony.”

“Sounds fun.” Tony stepped forward, solidly into Steve’s space, and reached up to straighten his tie. His fingers brushed Steve’s throat and those careful breaths halted. “Hey, Steve?”

“What?”

“Relax.” Steve’s frown deepened, but his breathing started up again, and his shoulders shifted down, a little further away from his ears. Tony smiled encouragingly, finished with Steve’s tie, and stepped back. “Good?”

“Alright.” Steve grabbed his wallet off the table by the door and led the way out of the room. “They’re - uh - they’re sending a car.” Steve said as they stepped into the elevator.

“Swanky.”

Steve shrugged again, and Tony held back a sigh. Showing this guy a good time was going to be like pulling teeth. Sam and his date, a tiny, smiling girl with dark hair and shockingly pretty eyes, met them outside. Sam shot Steve a significant look which, Tony was amused to see, Steve ignored.

Steve was a statue in the back of the car for the entire drive to the event hall. There wasn’t much in the way of press out front, but there was a red carpet leading up to the vast front door, and a few photographers hovered around the edges. Steve’s entire body rippled with tension. Tony wrapped his fingers around Steve’s forearm and gave a squeeze, then as the car rolled to a stop, reached over and pushed open the door before Steve could change his mind.

“Let’s go, gorgeous,” Tony whispered, urging Steve out of his seat.

Steve stood and, to Tony’s surprise, shifted his hand up so Tony’s slid down from his wrist to his hand, and held it tightly. Looking for all the world like he was on his way to be court marshalled, Steve pulled Tony along, up the red carpet without a pause or smile for the reporters, and through the front doors.

The large ballroom had been filled with cloth-covered tables, waiters in tuxes, and people. Steve made a beeline for one of those groups of people, Sam and his date trailing far behind as they stopped to say some hellos. Steve introduced Tony to everyone at the table in a rush - Bucky, Clint, Clint’s wife Laura - then sat down with a sigh next to the one he’d called Bucky.

“Dude,” Bucky said, and Steve nodded.

Tony slipped into the seat next to Steve, marked “Guest”. Their table was near the front and had a gold-embossed sign on it it that said “Reserved” with several of the seats marked as “Guest of Honour” including the one with Steve’s name attached to it.

Tony leaned over to whisper in Steve’s ear, not failing to notice the way Steve shifted closer into his space to meet him. “When you said this was an awards ceremony you failed to mention that it was in your honour.”

Steve shrugged, and his cheeks turned delightfully pink. “It’s not a big deal.”

Tony grinned. This guy was adorable. “So what did you do?”

Steve muttered something, then Bucky spoke to his left, and he turned away, cutting off the end of his sentence. Steve seemed to be taking the, “don’t worry about showing me a good time,” line seriously. Tony was left with Sam and his date, and Clint and Laura next to them. Sam’s date turned politely to Tony. “So, how do you know Steve?” she asked.

Tony watched as all the blood drained out of Sam’s face, and he heard the conversation between Bucky and Steve snap off. Tony took his time, making a show of getting settled and enjoying the tension radiating off of Sam and Steve’s bodies. Sam opened his mouth to say something but Tony got there first.

“Coffee shop.” He shot Steve a smile, and a wink. “He was too adorable, I couldn’t help but ask him out. I suggested a movie, but he said he needed a date for this shindig, so here we are!”

Sam and Steve let out a shared breath, while Sam’s date nodded appreciatively. “Very bold,” she winked. “Good for you.”

“How did you and Sam meet?”

She launched into a story - that Tony would absolutely be stealing for use with another client - and Tony fell into party mode. They were served a five-star dinner, Steve received an award - which turned out to be for a veteran’s aid charity he had started with the others at the table, Peggy’s Promise. Tony felt a twinge of discomfort at the realization that he was at a table of vets - Clint, Bucky, and Steve had all served together and met Sam at the VA when they got back - but it subsided as quickly as it had risen up.

Tony chatted with the table, chatted with the politicians and lobbyists who swarmed up to make nice with Steve, and chatted with Steve. He put him at ease whenever he could, and whisked him away for a private conversation whenever Steve’s shoulders twitched to tight. Steve started to soften to Tony, even shooting him a glance a few times when he was clearly feeling stuck in an unpleasant conversation.

“Want some air?” Tony asked, swooping in between Steve and a large, red-faced man who was shaking his hand a little too enthusiastically. “I could use some air.” He turned to the man. “Sorry to steal him away.” Tony shot him his most sympathetic smile, and the man nodded and released them. Tony bustled Steve out to the side steps where a few partygoers had gathered to smoke or chat in the setting sun. “You alright?”

Steve looked at him in surprise. “Uh, yeah. It’s just - a lot. I’m not - this is all new for me.”

Tony patted his shoulder, giving it a squeeze after and feeling him relax a tiny amount. “You’re doing great, soldier.”

A soft smile blew across Steve’s face. “You’re - uh - you’re really good at that. That people stuff.”

Tony dismissed it with a handwave. “Been doing it all my life. It’s nothing. You can let me know if you need an out, though. I can do tired or sick or grumpy or, hey, desperately horny -” Tony waggled his eyebrows, and Steve shot him a look. “- depending on how quickly you want to leave, and how jealous you want your friends to be.” Tony smirked and straightened Steve’s tie again, brushing his knuckles against his throat.

“Ah, okay. Well, um, good to know, I guess.” Steve shuffled in place. “I could use another drink…”

Tony slipped his arm into Steve’s and gripped his elbow encouragingly. “Lead on.”

Steve relaxed more and more as the night went on. Tony wasn’t sure if it was the application of alcohol, the reassurance that Tony could help him bail if he wanted to go, or the increasing distance from Steve’s stint on stage, but by the time people started drifting out of the ballroom, Steve was verging on comfortable. Tony hung off his arm attractively and continued to act as point guard, deflecting people that made Steve’s hand clench against his side and making space for the conversations that Steve leaned into.

Tony told a young man in a crisp suit that he had met Steve on the subway, an older woman with a scary smile that Steve had caught Tony’s umbrella when it had flown away, and a tall, heavily made up young woman who leaned too far into Steve’s space that they had met grinding at Manhattan’s premiere gay club. Steve actually burst out laughing as the woman walked off with a sneer and haughty swing of her slim hips.

“How do you come up with so many of those on the spot?” he asked, grinning over at Tony.

“Just creative I guess. Or I steal them.” He smiled back.

Steve wouldn’t dance, but he stayed through dessert, and Tony was pleasantly fed and watered by the end of the night. Sam and his date wanted to stay, but Steve admitted he was done, so he and Tony took the fancy car Steve had been provided with by themselves. Steve piled in, stumbling a little and pulling Tony in awkwardly after him. He was glowing, a smile lighting up his whole face, and Tony couldn’t help but grin back. “Have a good time?”

Steve looked surprised. “I did, actually. You were incredible.”

“Me? You’re the one who got an award!”

Steve shrugged it off, blushing prettily. “I can’t believe how good you were with all those people. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Tony purred, shifting across the seat to crawl into Steve’s lap, throwing one leg over until he straddled Steve’s thighs. Steve’s eyes snapped to Tony’s face and he opened his mouth, apparently at a loss for words. Tony tucked even tighter against him and felt Steve’s body respond to their closeness. Tony ducked down until his lips were softly brushing against Steve’s as he spoke. “Just tell me what you like.”

“I -” Steve swallowed. His hands hovered over Tony’s thighs without touching. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“Okay. It’s up to you, big guy.” Tony shifted his hips back and grinned at Steve’s sharp intake of breath. “But I’m paid up for the night so you can do whatever you want with me.” Steve’s frown deepened, and Tony realized his mistake. “Hey, look. We’re just two guys that had a great night, right? Yeah, I was hired to be your date, but I had a good time, okay? And if you want to invite me in for a drink when we get back to your place, that’s totally up to you. If you like me. I’m just saying - I’ll say yes.” Tony wasn’t sure why he was pushing for it. Usually if a client wanted to pay his nightly rate and not shed any clothing then Tony was all for it. He liked sex, he liked making people feel good, but there was something to be said for getting home early and banging around his apartment in ratty old boxers instead.

But he liked Steve, and he _had_ had a good time tonight, and Steve seemed like the kind of guy who was desperately in need of a good blow job. He was endlessly tense. Tony figured it had been a while for him, and he was surprised to find that he was looking forward to watching Steve Rogers lose a bit of control.

The other thing that surprised Tony was his own suggestion that they take things back to Steve’s place. Tony was the master of the backseat blowjob and was personally responsible for most of New York Limo Service’s detailing costs. It was quick, simple, safe, and avoided the awkwardness of navigating someone’s home. Besides, more often than not, his clients had people waiting at home. The backseat blowjob was a classic, but instead Tony had suggested that Steve take him home, without a thought.

Steve was clearly deeply conflicted, so Tony settled for sitting next to him, curved into the shape of his body, head rested on his shoulder. Steve’s tension released bit by bit as they drove. They ventured into the depths of Brooklyn, and Tony found himself distracted by the city rolling past outside the window.

Finally, they pulled to a halt outside a row of pristine brownstones. Steve didn’t move, his eyes fixed on some random point on the leather in front of him.

“Steve?” Tony prodded gently. Steve’s eyes snapped to his, and his hand clenched against his thigh. Tony could feel his fingers move where his own leg was pressed up against them.

“Would you -” Steve swallowed, his eyes flickering down to Tony’s mouth. “Come in for a - a drink?”

Tony smiled, gentle, encouraging. “Of course.”

He expected Steve to relax at that, but he didn’t. If anything he wound tighter. Steve called a thank you to their driver then pushed out of the car. Tony crawled out after him, huddling close to his back, waiting for him to lead the way.

Steve’s home was lightly furnished but beautifully maintained. Tony instantly felt dirty the second he set foot inside. Despite always cleaning up carefully before jobs, he automatically checked his fingers for motor grease before he touched anything. The front hall broke into an open plan living/dining space on the right, and a set of steep stairs on the left. At the end of the hall the kitchen joined onto the dining room at the back of the house. The floors were perfect, original hardwood, and the walls were complimentary shades of teal and turquoise. The dark grey couch had two perfectly positioned orange cushions perched at either end.

“Wow,” Tony couldn’t help but say.

Steve turned, some of his inner turmoil clearing in the face of his confusion. “What?”

“Oh I just - you have a really nice place. It’s so… clean.” All of Tony’s suave left him in an instant as he shuffled uncertainly in the hallway. He was good at this - he was sure of it - but this wasn’t going the way it usually went. If he made it as far as a client's home at the end of the date, they were usually sucking too much face for him to notice the decor. But Steve’s face was too far away to suck, disappearing down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Uh, I guess.” The back of Steve’s shoulders shrugged. Tony scrambled to follow him, then trotted back to kick his shoes off next to Steve’s. He headed back for the kitchen and nearly ran into Steve’s ass where he’d stopped next to a cabinet of glasses. There were bottles of dark amber on the top shelf. “I hired a decorator when I first moved here. I don’t really notice that kind of thing.”

“Well, it’s a nice place.” Tony rammed his hands in his pockets, wondering if maybe his cool was in there somewhere.

Steve pulled down a bottle then eyed Tony speculatively. “Please tell me you’re old enough to drink.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “I’m twenty-three.”

Steve didn’t move.

“Okay, I’m twenty-one, but I practised at being twenty-one for a few years before so I might as well be twenty-three.”

To his surprise, Steve laughed. He poured two drinks and held one out to Tony. Tony watched the dark liquid touch Steve’s lips and his purpose here came back in a heated rush. Steve had invited him in, he clearly wanted this, but he was going to be too reserved to go for it himself. Steve’s eyebrows ticked up when Tony knocked back his whole drink in one go, then his eyes widened as Tony set the glass down and stepped up into his space. With one finger hooked lightly in Steve’s waistband, Tony pressed them chest to chest and flicked his eyes up to Steve, peering at him coyly from under his lashes. He sucked the edge of his bottom lip between his teeth, and Steve’s breath caught.

“So now that we’ve had our drink…” Tony let his voice drop low and husky, tilting his hipbone forward ever so slightly until it pressed against the inside of Steve’s thigh.

Steve wobbled in Tony’s direction, eyes fixed on the lip still clutched between his teeth, then huffed out a sigh and took an unsteady step backwards, away from Tony. He set his drink down on the kitchen counter and stared at it.

“Do you want me to go?” Tony asked lightly, not advancing again.

Steve opened his mouth, and Tony could see a “yes” hanging there between his lips, but then he stumbled forward, back into Tony’s space and then some, drowning the word against Tony’s mouth. Tony moaned into the kiss, parting his lips and slotting Steve’s between them, hot and wet and eager. For all that this was a job, he was instantly hard, straining in his pants, and couldn’t tamp down the thrill of relief that Steve hadn’t sent him home. Steve’s hands flitted over his hips, his back, to his neck where they cupped Tony’s face between them and pulled the kiss even deeper. Less hesitant, Tony grabbed a handful of Steve’s shirt, tugging it up out of his belt until he could slide his fingers under, between the tight cotton of Steve’s undershirt and his - holy shit.

“My god,” Tony whimpered. “No one has the right to have abs that incredible.”

Steve huffed a self-conscious laugh out of his nose. His thumb brushed over Tony’s cheek. Tony figured Steve was unlikely to take this to the next level if left to his own devices, so he slipped his own jacket off and tossed it over one of the stools by the breakfast bar. One slow button at a time, he worked his way down his white dress shirt, Steve’s eyes following his path helplessly.

When he got halfway down, Steve gave in to temptation and dropped his mouth to Tony’s neck, nipping his way across Tony’s collar bone. Tony rushed through the rest of his shirt, then let Steve pull off his undershirt and stroke his flat palms over Tony’s chest. Clothes kept hitting the floor, and Tony realized he hadn’t actually asked Steve what he wanted.

“Steve?” He ground his hips forward and thrilled at the pressure of Steve’s arousal against his leg. “Steve.”

“Hmm?” Steve was apparently too occupied by the soft skin under Tony’s jaw to reply with real words.

“Can I suck you off?” Tony asked, falling back on his go-to. Steve felt wild and uncertain in Tony’s arms, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice, and Tony didn’t think he’d be up for anything more adventurous than that.

“Oh god,” Steve hissed out, hands clenching on Tony’s sides. “Yes please.” The words sounded like they’d been squeezed out of his chest like the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube. Tony slipped his hand in his pocket and palmed a condom before letting his open pants fall to the ground. He usually wasn’t quite so naked for a blowjob, but Steve was eyeing him with such open hunger that he couldn’t resist preening a little under the gaze.

“Should we take this somewhere?” Tony asked, and Steve grabbed both his arms and guided him to the stairs.

They lost Steve’s pants in the hallway, the clang of his belt hitting the floor making them both jump, then laugh into each others mouths. The stairs were a challenge, but Steve’s room had a big, beautiful bed in it, and Tony wasted no time pushing Steve down to sit on the edge. His cock was rock hard and leaking, and his eyes were _begging_ for it. “Tony…”

“I’ve got you, gorgeous, just relax.” Tony stroked his hands up Steve’s neck and furrowed them briefly in Steve’s hair until he huffed out a breath and relaxed a little. Tony scraped his nails gently down Steve’s chest as he fell to his knees. Steve’s legs widened of their own accord, inviting Tony between them, and he snugged up close, letting his chest brush against Steve’s cock as he sucked a light bruise just beneath his ribs. Steve’s hips bucked forward at the contact, and he moaned.

Tony mouthed his way down Steve’s chest while he ripped open the condom. He stroked his fist loosely over Steve’s cock, loving the way it leapt into his touch and throbbed impossibly harder. He started the condom with his hands, then followed it with his mouth, drawing out the downward slide as slowly as he could, until his fist hit the curls at the base of Steve’s cock, and Tony’s lips hit his fist. He sucked as he drew back, still slowly. Steve’s breath was going wild above him, little whimpering moans leaking out between them - Tony had been right; it had clearly been a while.

Working up enough spit and getting into the rhythm, Tony eased himself lower and lower with every smooth slide, eventually abandoning his hand entirely and pushing forward until his nose hit Steve’s stomach, and Steve’s cock hit the back of his throat. He swallowed.

“Holy shit,” Steve gasped out. His leg started shaking next to Tony, and when Tony backed off next, he urged Steve back on the bed, climbing up after him. He settled between Steve’s splayed legs, and sucked him down again, deep and fast. Steve kept himself propped up on his elbows, watching Tony take him in with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Tony blinking up languidly at him from under his lashes. He moaned and found that what was usually a little show had slipped out on its own.

Steve looked so far gone, so open, so _grateful,_ that Tony found his own cock was painfully hard where it rubbed against Steve calf. He usually only got off if his client wanted to jack him off - which was usually pretty shitty and took a herculean effort to satisfy their egos - or if they miraculously fucked him the way he liked. Since eighty percent of the time it was a blow job anyway, Tony found he was usually sketching out blueprints in his head by the time it was over.

But Steve was holyshit-hot, and Tony was naked, and Steve’s wide blue eyes were fixed on him like he was unbelievably enticing, but also utterly terrifying, and Tony was hard as fuck and verging into desperate territory.

He held off on touching himself, letting his hips kick forward enough that he could rut against the soft sheets between Steve’s legs, but he was so caught in the heat and desire and intensity of the moment that he barely noticed Steve’s leg start to shake again, or the hand that drifted into his hair and caught there.

“Oh fuck - I’m - ugh,” Steve stammered out, and Tony caught up, realizing Steve was about three seconds from coming. He sucked hard and slid all the way down, unsurprised when Steve’s palm on his head pressed down, then relaxed, a silent plea for him to stay there while he pulsed into the condom with a rough cry. Tony swallowed around the head of his cock as he came, wishing for the first time in his history as an escort that there wasn’t a barrier between them. Steve probably tasted fantastic. When he pulled up, lips swollen and spit dribbling down his chin, Steve had both hands fisted in the sheets and an awed look on his face.

His mouth seemed stuck open, so Tony crawled up his body and kissed it closed. The movement brushed Tony’s desperate cock against the soft skin on the inside of Steve’ thigh and he groaned, breaking the kiss to bite his lip and will his body to calm down.

“Are you -?” Steve asked breathless. “Can I see?”

Tony groaned again at Steve’s nervous eagerness and crawled up further until he was straddling Steve’s hips, Steve’s spent cock pressing against Tony’s ass and making his mind go wild with possibilities. Tony took his cock in his hand and stroked, rolling his hips with the movement. Steve was strong and solid and warm beneath him. Steve’s hands slid up Tony’s thighs, settling at the creases of his hips, thumbs stroking in time with his hand. Tony braced himself with a hand on Steve’s shoulder, all thoughts of pleasing his client and this being a job banished in the face of Steve’s tongue darting out to brush over his bottom lip.

“Do you want -?” Tony managed to choke out. Steve’s eyes snapped to his and yes, he did want. Badly. “Fuck.” Tony wanted to shove his cock in Steve’s mouth desperately, but he settled for hooking his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip and coming hard over his chest, covering Steve’s perfect pecs with a hot splash of come. Steve sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fixed on Tony’s cock, still pulsing in his hand.

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed out. Tony tipped over, sliding off of Steve’s chest and slumping onto the sheets. For a long time, all he could think was blank white noise. Slowly, his brain began to come back online, reminding him that he needed to get his clothes and get out of there. That had been one of his best times with a client, but Steve was still a client, and if he hung around too long, he’d fall asleep.

Steve already looked three quarters of the way there, so Tony cleaned him up with a kleenex from the night stand, whispered, “Goodnight, hot stuff,” and rolled off the bed. Steve’s hand found Tony’s wrist and tightened. He blinked up at Tony, clearing the sex-haze from his eyes. He opened his mouth, giving a little tug on Tony’s wrist, and Tony braced himself for being asked to stay, but Steve snapped it shut again and released his hold.

“There’s a key on the sideboard. You can just push it through the mailslot,” Steve managed to get out, words slurred.

Tony grinned. “Alright.” Recklessly, he bent down and kissed Steve one last time, hard and hot. Steve arched into it.

Tony left Steve drifting into sleep, a happy, sated smile ghosting across his lips, and picked his way downstairs. He collected all the clothes then sorted through them, leaving Steve’s in a pile at the foot of the stairs, and pulling on his own. The key was indeed on the sideboard and Tony rolled it around in his hands for a moment, then stepped towards the door, pulling his shoes on as he went. At the door knob, he stopped. Steve’s phone was sitting on the sideboard too and it crossed Tony’s mind that Steve hadn’t been the one to hire him, and he might not know how to get in touch if he wanted to see Tony again. And Tony certainly wouldn’t mind it if he did.

So he picked up Steve’s phone and swiped it open - no passcode - then installed the app for the Heroes for Hire Escort Service. He added his own profile to the list of favourites and left it open to that page, his own cocky smile grinning out from the screen. He returned the phone to the side board and pushed through the door, locking up behind him and shoving the key through the mailslot.

**

Tony stretched, his arm flailing off the mattress and knocking over what sounded, and felt, worryingly like a partially full coffee mug. He stared up at the vaulted ceiling above him, the midday light scattering through the stained glass windows into a kaleidoscope of colours, dancing over his bed. And into his tired eyes. There were downsides to this apartment, and that was one of them. Luckily, Tony could sleep through an earthquake - and had - so a little lack of curtains wasn’t too big of an issue.

He half sat up, yawning and rolling his ankles out. He was sideways on his bed - floor mattress - his feet stretched out on the hardwood, his sheets wild. The alarm clock that perched on the pew by his head said it was 2:00 and Tony had to assume by the light that that was 2 in the afternoon - though he wouldn’t put it past himself to sleep right through until the next morning.

He stood up and padded down the aisle towards the bathroom. Tony’s apartment wasn’t so much a church conversion, as it was a church. A developer had bought it, hoping to turn it into condos, but there had been a problem with the permits, or the funding, or something and they’d fucked off, leaving the half torn up church sitting with no one in it. The woman who bought it had rented it out to Tony as is, and “as is” was pretty interesting. There was a kitchen at the back, designed for Sunday School snacks and Pancake Breakfasts. The bathrooms were rows of stalls, the last of which Tony had converted into a shower. There was no bedroom so he dumped his mattress on the altar, next to the front row of pews that he’d left in lieu of chairs, and called it a day.

The rest of the floor space was what made this place so appealing. Tony had unscrewed all the other rows of pews and pushed them up against the walls, leaving a vast, open floor to use as he pleased. As he pleased, for the most part, was building. Robots, engines, computer systems - anything and everything he could get his hands on.

It was bright, and the noise echoed horribly through the vast ceiling, and on Sundays, if he forgot to lock up, inevitably some tourist would come pushing through the door looking for a nice morning service. Instead, they’d find Tony covered in gears, smoking a joint in nothing but his Star Wars boxers. But for all its failings, it had space, and it was his and that was what mattered most.

After a quick shower, Tony pulled on ratty jeans and a t-shirt that smelled like it had probably been washed at least once that month, and sat amongst his work, whistling, with a smile on his face. He pretty much spent all his time either building, or escorting.

The next week went by in a blur of gears and suits. Tony had a few dates with regular clients, some of which ended in sex, some didn’t. Wednesday and Thursday he had nothing, so he cranked his music and dove into his projects with renewed intensity.

On Friday night, his music cut out sharply, silence ringing through the rafters then filled by a loud chirp, then another. The song came back on. Tony had no one who would text him besides Heroes for Hire so he knew it was a job, probably for this weekend. He sat up, popping his back loudly, and realized that the sun had disappeared sometime while he was working - it was already evening. He walked over to his phone, shaking feeling back into his numb leg as he moved, and saw 2 messages from the service. They were both for tonight so he’d have to choose one and reject the other. He hated having to do that - it felt like a waste of good money to say no.

The first was from a regular - Ty - at a client dinner where he needed a plus one to bat his eyes distractingly and make Ty look strong and desirable. It would almost certainly end with Tony getting his face fucked in the backseat of Ty’s car and a healthy tip.

The second was, to his immense surprise, from Steve. It didn’t say what the event was, but Steve had checked off formal for what to wear. Tony only hesitated for a moment before rejecting Ty. He was a regular and it wasn’t the first time Tony had had to say no - he’d find someone else and be back to Tony for the next time. Steve, though... Tony hadn’t expected him to get in touch at all, let alone so soon. If he said no this time, he was sure he’d never hear from him again, and Tony liked him. He’d be a good client to hook and keep. Tony tapped accept, watched the money appear in his account, then tossed his phone onto his mattress. He sniffed at his shirt and frowned - time for a full workshop removal process.

After a vigorous scrubbing, Tony climbed up the ladder he had hooked over one of the window ledges and up to a series of hooks where he hung his clothes. He used to keep them hooked over the decorative wood curls around the altar, but he’d learned his lesson on that one after a deeply modified fire extinguisher had exploded and doused everything he owned in foam, hours before a work date. He grabbed one of his two tuxes and climbed back down, tugging open the garment bag before he hit the last rung.

An hour later, he was clean and impeccably dressed, his hair slicked back, and with just the right amount of stubble. If he’d put the barest hint of mascara on his dark lashes so they popped a little stronger as he looked up through them from between a client’s knees, well that was no one’s business but his own.

He took a cab to Steve’s brownstone, hopping up the steps with an unusual eagerness, and knocked. There was a wild thumping, then silence, then a few moments later, the door wrenched open. Steve was in his tux, but with the jacket off and the shirt half-wild out of his open pants. Tony grinned. “Hey, gorgeous.”

He expected Steve to tense again at the sight of him, but instead he relaxed, his whole body softening. “Hi, Tony.”

Steve gestured him in, then turned into the living room. On the coffee table he’d laid out his belt, tie, jacket, and a small jewellry box - different from the last one. Steve snatched up his belt and half-jogged into the kitchen, shoving it through the loops of his pants as he moved. “So where are we heading tonight?” Tony called after him, picking up Steve’s tie and looping it around his own neck.

Steve reappeared with a piece of toast sticking out his mouth. “Dinner,” he said around the toast. “Same award thing, but small dinner for recipients.”

Tony laughed. “Why are you eating then?”

Steve blushed beautifully. “I get hungry when I’m nervous,” he grumbled, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Tony grinned to himself as he finished tying Steve’s tie around his own neck. He followed him into the kitchen where Steve was typing furiously on his phone. Tony managed to get the tie between the phone and Steve’s face, and over the toast, settling it around Steve’s neck. Steve finished his toast, and his text, and dropped his eyes to Tony, cheeks colouring. Tony kept his eyes fixed on Steve’s while he slowly worked the knot tighter, tucking it under Steve’s collar.

He could tell Steve wasn’t breathing, but Tony didn’t back off, pushing a little closer instead. He usually made it his goal to keep his clients as comfortable as possible, but he had a feeling that Steve enjoyed being made to feel a little uncomfortable so Tony pushed the boundaries and got his reward: Steve’s throat bobbing, his slight, unconscious lean in.

“We going to be late?” Tony asked, letting a little suggestion leach into his voice. If they weren’t… he had ideas for how they might fill the time.

But Steve jumped back with a muffled curse and ran for his jacket. Tony helped him with his cufflinks again - tiny easels this time - and five minutes later they were outside and in the car. This was a private event - no red carpet - so Steve had called a cab and Tony lamented the lack of space for teasing in the back seat. Still, he ignored his seatbelt in favour of pressing up against Steve’s side for the ride over. Instead of tense, this time Steve sunk into the touch, throwing an arm over the back of the seat behind Tony’s shoulders.

“I’ll be honest,” Tony said, shooting Steve a look. “I didn’t think I was going to hear from you again.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Then sighed. “Yeah, honestly, I didn’t think I was going to either.” Tony tried not to be bothered by that. It would have been nice to think that Steve had spent the week wanting to see him again. “Tonight - It’s going to be a lot of the same people. I thought - you know - continuity.. Or something.”

Ah. So the only reason Steve had called him again was so he wouldn’t show up a week later with someone new and look like some manslut. The knowledge settled in Tony’s gut in a way that made him frown and squirm. He shouldn’t care - he _really_ shouldn’t care. Money was money. But he was starting to wish he’d gone for Ty’s hair pulling and emasculating comments over this.

Still, Tony had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to underperform just because Steve hadn’t spent their time apart pining or something. He snapped on his game face and was charming and beautiful and affectionate at dinner.

When a middle-aged woman from the awards committee leaned in and asked him how he knew Steve, he told a complicated tale of evenings at the MOMA, judging by Steve’s bookcase and cufflinks that he was into art. Steve was deep in conversation with another award recipient on his left, or rather deep in nodding encouragingly and looking like he wanted to stab his fish fork in his eye, but he clearly had one ear focused on Tony’s tall tale and a few times his lips twitched up in amusement. When the woman was satisfied by his story, Tony leaned over to rescue Steve, pulling the man’s attention to himself instead. He could feel Steve’s sigh of relief against his side.

It was an early night - no drinks and dancing, just coffee and cheesecake - so it was barely eleven when they climbed back into a cab. Steve huffed out a long breath and leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes. Tony chuckled, then curled up against him and loosened Steve’s tie. “You did good, soldier.”

A smile ghosted across Steve’s face. “Well, I survived, anyway. You were amazing again, of course.”

The praise flickered in Tony’s belly, but he stamped it down. Steve only wanted continuity - he didn’t want Tony. He wondered if this time he could get by with a back of the cab handjob instead of going into Steve’s place. He slipped his palm over Steve’s thigh, but fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling him. Steve shot him an odd, twisted look, and Tony pulled back, shifted away a little, back towards his own seat. The fun of seducing Steve last time had evaporated. He would wait, see what Steve wanted, and when they were done he could go home and collapse onto his lumpy mattress in his haven of toys and likely never see this man again.

When they pulled up in front of Steve’s place, Tony made to shift towards the door, but Steve leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “This should get my friend home too.” He handed a couple of bills to the driver and opened the door when the driver nodded. “Goodnight, Tony.”

Steve’s voice was warm, but his words were firm. Tony opened his mouth to say, “What the hell?” Then realized how crazy that sounded. He loved an early night - getting paid the same for half as much work was always best - but this didn’t feel like relief, it felt like rejection. Had Steve not enjoyed last time? He sure seemed like he had. Tony tried desperately not to pout. Steve was staring at him with these wide, uncertain eyes and Tony wondered if he was supposed to push again, if that was the game. But Steve knew now - knew he only had to ask and Tony would be in there with him in a second, sucking down his whiskey, among other things.

Steve didn't ask this time, however, and he didn’t look like he wanted to be convinced. He reached over and gave Tony’s a hand a squeeze, repeated his, “Goodnight, Tony,” then disappeared through his front door. Tony stared after him as the taxi pulled away, only looking away when the driver asked for his address.

He plowed through the heavy wood doors of The Church, kicking his shoes off and making a beeline for the bed. He dumped his clothes in a heap on the last pew - they needed to be washed anyway - and fell face first onto the mattress. He was bone-deep tired and full of cheesecake; he figured he’d be out like a light any minute.

But sleep wouldn’t come. It wasn’t that late, sure, but he usually paid little attention to the clock anyway, conking out whenever sleep hit him. And he was tired, so he should sleep. But instead, he lay there, squirming around but unable to get comfortable. A throb between his legs brought his attention rapidly south. His hips twitched forward of their own accord, rubbing his hardening dick against the soft of the sheets.

Okay, yeah, that was it, that was the thing. He’d been all geared up for something sexy with Steve and when it hadn’t happened, his body had been the last to get the memo. Tony didn’t always get off with his clients, but he had last time with Steve and at least one part of him was clearly expecting to again.

He rolled onto his back and snaked a hand down between his legs. He stroked his cock, and remembered the look on Steve’s face as he’d painted his chest with come, the way his lips had wrapped around Tony’s thumb. Steve had wanted Tony to come on his face, in his mouth, and god he had wanted to. He came hard, spilling over his fist, eyes squeezed shut with an image of Steve begging him to come playing on repeat in his mind.


	2. Chapter Two

Tony was sure he’d never hear from Steve again. But then he did. Tony’s phone went off two weeks later, the app displaying Steve’s client code and the time. He thought about declining it, but he had no other requests for that night, and hadn’t been out all week, so he could really use the money. 

When Steve opened the door, Tony cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Continuity?” with more than a little coolness, but Steve shook his head, looking a little confused, and ushered Tony inside. It ended up being a charity gala. Steve clung close beside Tony the whole night, shifting his body language towards him every time someone approached them to talk. By the end of the party, Tony had a steadying hand on Steve’s elbow and drove him through the crowd, getting a few drinks in him and dragging him out onto the dance floor when the people were clearly becoming too much.

Steve’s breath caught as Tony swung into his arms and he swallowed hard, but he wrapped a hand around Tony’s waist and let him grasp the other one. To Tony’s surprise, despite his discomfort, Steve took the lead easily, and guided Tony smoothly around the dance floor. “Wow,” Tony grinned at him, “Boy can dance.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve looked everywhere but at Tony. “My - someone taught me. Long time ago.”

There was something there, something heavy, and painful and untouchable. So Tony backed off, changed the subject. “You looked like you could use a break.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m just not good with crowds. Or at least, not this kind of crowd.”

Tony pressed a little closer, relaxing onto Steve’s firm hold. “What kind of crowds are you good with?”

Steve’s eyes finally found Tony’s and there was something depthless and breathtaking in them that Tony couldn’t explain. “Crowds of people I like,” Steve said plainly.

Tony could only nod.

At the end of the night, things went much the same as last time. The cab beat its way through traffic until they were outside Steve’s door, he paid enough to get Tony home, squeezed his hand, and slid out.

Tony went home and jacked off alone in his bed. And this time he couldn’t claim that it was because he’d been expecting sex, because he really hadn’t.

It happened two more times - Steve booked Tony for the night, on a night when he had no good reason to say no, took him out to something with a lot of people contact, then sent him home in a cab to take care of things himself, alone in his bed after.

It was money, sure, but Tony was getting sick of it all. Sometimes Steve would give him these heated looks, or swoop his eyes over Tony’s body when he walked through the door, but without fail, every night, Steve would shoot out of the taxi and leave Tony in it alone. And Tony couldn’t help but think that he had screwed up somehow, that first night. Steve had seemed to enjoy himself, but Tony must have done something wrong. Not wrong enough, clearly, for Steve to stop hiring him as eye candy, but the sex had obviously sucked, or he’d be back for more. Or didn’t suck enough, maybe.

Tony sighed down at his phone, blinking its little blue light at him. Steve wanted to meet again tonight. He hadn’t checked off “formal” this time, but he had every other time so Tony assumed it was a mistake and climbed the ladder to get a suit anyway. He paused halfway through buttoning up his shirt. He couldn’t keep doing this with Steve - it was messing with his head. The best part about fucking people for money was that blatant want in their eyes, the clench of their hands on Tony’s hips like he was the most desirable thing in the world. Even Ty, with his bent for pushing Tony around, still told him he was incredible every time. But Steve didn’t want him - he was only booking because after getting through the first time it was easier to keep calling Tony than get a real date. And that would have been fine, if they’d never slept together in the first place, but now it was all Tony could think about.

He’d already said he would go tonight, but this would be the last, and he’d tell Steve he was stopping so he wouldn’t count on being able to get Tony last minute next time. Tonight, after whatever thing they were going to, Tony would put a stop to it.

The weather was starting to turn already. Tony tugged his leather jacket tighter around himself and rapped firmly on the door to Steve’s brownstone. It was only a few seconds until the door swung open and Steve stood there. Tony grinned at him, stepping in out of the cold. He swept his eyes over Steve, then tilted his head in confusion. Gone was the usual suit and tie. Steve only wore faded jeans and a delightfully tight, white t-shirt, His feet were bare save for a pair of gym socks with a hole in one toe and his hair was sticking up.

Tony felt instantly overdressed. “Uh, what’s the occasion tonight? Radiohead concert?”

He had hoped for a laugh, but instead, Steve’s face twisted into an expression of pure panic. Tony shut the door behind him, nearly humming with pleasure as the heat of Steve’s home snuggled around him. 

“There’s - uh - there’s no occasion,” Steve breathed, doing his best impression of a feral cat backed into a corner.

“Okay…” Tony said carefully, trying and failing to master telepathy. “Why did you call me then? Not that I’m not happy to be here,” he added with a smile that was a little too genuine. And really, that was probably the reason why he kept saying yes. He actually liked Steve, despite his fear of crowds, and his refusal to put out. He was funny and sweet and really fucking hot.

“I - uh - I just...” Steve took an unsteady breath and stepped forward until there were only mere inches between them. “I wanted to - you, in - for a - a drink.”

Tony filled in the gaps between the words. _ Oh.  _ He resisted the urge to think,  _ finally.  _ “Ah, I see.” He pressed into those last few inches, erasing them with his chest against Steve’s. “All you have to do is ask, Steve,” he whispered, breath brushing Steve’s lips. It was an interesting development, but Tony didn’t have much time to consider it.

Steve made a small noise of want, then leaned forward to press his lips to Tony’s. His kiss was nervous, hesitant, but Tony took it and pushed it filthy, thrilling when Steve’s hips twitched forward against his. Tony let his jacket fall to the floor- never breaking the kiss - then wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, scratching his nails lightly over Steve’s back and feeling a shiver follow their path. 

Steve took a stumbling step backwards, drawing Tony with him, and Tony gave in easily, letting Steve lead him upstairs to the master bedroom. Tony hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Steve’s jeans to keep his hips from getting too far away. The room was the same as Tony had seen it last, except the grey sheets had been replaced with dark blue. Steve hesitated as they crossed the threshold so Tony gave him a little shove until he sat on the bed then straddled his lap. Steve’s hands wandered up Tony’s back, under his shirt, and his mouth fell to Tony’s neck, sucking a dark bruise there. A small voice tried to remind Tony that lasting marks were a bad idea, but the rush of blood Steve was pulling through him was too loud to hear it.

Tony kicked his hips forward, and Steve’s erection pressed against his thigh tantalizingly, arching angrily against the confines of his jeans. Tony dropped his hands to Steve’s zipper, moaning when Steve’s mouth found a new spot to worry with his teeth.

Stumbling fingers found the buttons on Tony’s shirt, and Steve gave up on Tony’s neck as he worked them open. Tony leaned back on Steve’s lap, watching his hands slide down Tony’s chest. When they were all undone, Steve pushed the shirt off Tony’s shoulders, then tugged his undershirt over his head. Steve’s eyes went wide, fixed on Tony’s chest, and Tony could tell he was about to lose an hour to Steve’s mouth on his skin if he didn’t take control. Tony slid backwards, off Steve’s lap and onto the floor, ignoring Steve’s little noise of disappointment. Tony popped the button on his pants and worked them over his hips, then let his boxer briefs fall to the floor after them. Steve’s little intake of breath shot straight to Tony’s stomach and lit a crackling, roaring fire there.

Tony fell to his knees, shuffling up between Steve’s legs, deftly sneaking a condom out of his pocket as his moved past his discarded clothes. Steve’s eyes were fixed on him, wide and full of wonder. Tony kissed his way up Steve’s thigh, then eased his open jeans down over his knees and to the floor. Steve’s hands floated up, hovered for a moment, then alighted in Tony’s hair, soft and teasing as they brushed through the strands.

Tony caught Steve’s eye. “What do you want?” he asked, carefully gentle, knowing Steve often struggled to put things like this into words, but fully expecting him to stammer out something about a repeat of last time.

Steve surprised him, however, sucking in a hard breath, meeting Tony’s eyes straight on, and whispering, “You inside me.”

It took all of Tony’s experience and practice to stop his mouth from falling open in surprise. He’d gotten the impression last time that Steve preferring giving up the reins, but guys who preferred to bottom generally asked for other things from Tony. He didn’t know if it was that they assumed a hooker wouldn’t want to top, or that it was too intimate a thing to ask for from a stranger. But Steve gazed down at him with tender openness and a terrifying trust, and his legs twitched open slightly, unconsciously drawing Tony in closer between them.

Tony felt the urge to say, “You sure?” but he didn’t want to make Steve think that what he’d asked for was unusual or unwanted so he simply pressed forward, running his hands up Steve’s thighs and pressed a soft kiss to his stomach. “Okay.”

A shudder ran through Steve’s body, and he tipped backwards on the bed, his arms spreading out on either side of him. Tony snatched a lube packet from his pocket as well, then crawled up from the floor, straddling Steve’s chest and grinning down at him. “Fuck, you’re hot,” Tony said.

Steve’s hands stroked up Tony’s thighs, then one gripped his side while the other wrapped around his cock. Tony gasped, arching into the contact. Steve stroked him slowly, getting him hard, but not getting him off. The little twist of his wrist was making Tony see stars, though. When it started to feel a little too good, he eased Steve further back on the bed, and settled low between his legs. Unable to resist, he ran his tongue recklessly up the underside of Steve’s cock, grinning at the gasp and jump it earned him.

Steve blushed as Tony eased his legs wide, propping himself up on his elbows, then collapsing back down with an arm over his eyes as Tony brushed the pad of his thumb over Steve’s hole. Tony kept his eyes on Steve’s face as he teased his way past the rim, pausing to rip open the lube and slick up his fingers. He watched to see what made Steve gasp, what made his fingers twitch, or his tongue dart out to catch between his teeth. When he pushed his finger in up to the knuckle and curved it until it brushed over Steve’s prostate, it punched an  _ “uhng”  _ out of Steve’s throat and knocked the arm off his eyes. He looked at Tony, wide-eyed and desperate. 

“I’ve got you,” Tony said, easing a second finger in, along with more lube. He was sure it had been a while for Steve - it seemed like it had been a while since he’d been touched at all, let alone fucked - and Tony wanted to take his time, but every second of watching Steve made it harder to hold back. Tony was rock hard and leaking against Steve’s sheets and all he’d done was touch Steve so far. But  _ god  _ he was so hot and tight and his eyes were  _ begging.  _ “Fuck, don’t look at me like that, Steve. I’m going to go off before we get to the main event.”

Of course, that just made Steve smile, still gazing down at Tony, which was so much worse. “I’m ready,” Steve insisted, breathless and panting.

“No, you’re not. Slow down.”

“I am.” Steve’s blush deepened. “I like it a little…”

“Oh god, don’t finish that sentence.” Tony took a deep breath, resting his forehead against the inside of Steve’s thigh. He pressed his fingers in deeper, stretching Steve wide, pumping in and out and earning a litany of cut off moans.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” Steve begged and that was it - the end of Tony’s patience. Maybe if more of his clients wanted this, he’d have more self control, but as it was, the details of how they’d ended up here had fled Tony’s mind and all he knew was that they both needed Tony inside Steve asap, or something was going to burst.

“Okay, okay,” Tony groaned, pulling his fingers free and running a soothing hand over Steve’s thigh. “Okay.” He wrestled the condom on in record time, coating his cock with lube and thrusting into his own slick fist a few times. “Steve.” He waited until Steve’s eyes met his - pupils blown and barely focused. “Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much. At any point. We can take our time.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, I promise, just please -”

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Tony repeated. He pushed at Steve’s hip until he turned over, and guided him up onto his hands and knees. “It’ll be easier like this,” he whispered, lining up the head of his cock. He slid it over Steve’s ass, through the lube, a shudder running up his spine at the slick, hot catch of Steve’s rim. He had the urge to ask Steve if he was sure again, but he was pretty sure that would get him slapped at this point. And he wasn’t so lacking in self-awareness that he wasn’t able to recognize that he was the one who was unsure. Not that he didn’t want it - he wanted it badly - he just didn’t want to fuck it up.

Another slide and the head of his cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle, drawing him into Steve’s body. They huffed out a shared curse. A hot sweat broke out across the back of Tony’s neck and he hadn’t even started moving yet. Tony eased forward, drawing a lengthy, breathy moan out of Steve, until he was fully seated, his hips pressed to Steve’s ass and Steve’s heat all around him. With immense difficulty, he forced his hips to still, waiting, letting Steve adjust. 

When Steve’s hips rocked back against him, Tony took the hint and pulled back, setting a slow, easy rhythm. Sliding free of Steve’s heat was torture, but pushing back into him was heaven, forcing a hissed out moan out of Tony’s chest. They rocked together, slowly at first, then growing in intensity as Steve urged Tony on with his movements. Tony realized with dawning embarrassment that he had temporarily forgotten that he was here to pleasure Steve, not get off himself, and his rhythm stuttered as he caught himself. Steve turned to gazed at him, over his shoulder, mouth falling open again, and Tony found he didn’t really have to worry, Steve was lost in pleasure too.

Tony leaned back, changing the angle until he hit Steve’s prostate and felt him clench around his cock, then wrapped one hand around Steve’s waist to take him in hand. He stroked Steve roughly, responding to his stammered begging and writhing hips. Steve’s thighs started shaking then he snapped his fingers around Tony’s wrist and cried out as he came. 

Feeling Steve pulse in his hand was almost enough to push Tony over the edge himself. He slammed his hips forward, knocking more wild moaning out of Steve, and knocking Steve down onto his elbows, until his balls tightened and the tension broke in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Tony collapsed forward, pressing Steve into the mattress, breathing heavily. He knew he should sit back, stop crushing Steve, make sure Steve was okay,  _ pull his dick out of Steve’s body,  _ but he couldn’t move. 

After a few minutes, he found his breath again and eased off, sliding free. Steve rolled on his side, slumping into a puddle. He looked utterly debauched - covered in his own come, cheeks pink, and eyes unfocused. “Fuck,” he breathed out, and Tony laughed. Steve waved his arm around wildly until he found the box of kleenex on the bedside table and held it out to Tony. Tony cleaned them up as best as he could, then slumped down on the sheets next to Steve.

“So,” Tony drawled, drawing a diagram for an improved combustion engine on Steve’s chest with one fingertip. “Why haven't we been doing that all along? Damn.” Steve was silent under him but radiated tension. “Don’t tell me it took you five parties to work up the courage to ask me to fuck you.” Tony pushed up on one elbow so he could look down at Steve.

Steve was looked determinedly at the ceiling and it took a few tries for him to find his voice. “That first time -”

Tony braced himself, prepared to finally find out whatever had turned Steve off so.

“It was - it was amazing - too good. I was - I found myself wanting things I couldn’t have.”

Tony stretched and felt his muscles groan with a pleasant ache. “I think it’s pretty clear you can have whatever you want.” He winked.

Steve shifted under him, his eyes dropping from the ceiling to Tony’s face. “Hmm? No, it wasn’t - I didn’t mean the sex. I meant the party. I’ve never had so much fun at something like that, and it was all you. I always hate those kinds of things, but the night flew by.”

Tony stilled. Steve’s voice had softened, warmed, and his eyes drifted away as his cheeks coloured. Tony’s heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest.

“I wanted… I wanted you to stay for more than a night. So, I told myself I shouldn’t call you again. But you were such a hit at the party and made it so much easier, so the next time I had an event I had to go to…” Steve took a breath. “I told myself that if I didn’t sleep with you after, it was somehow okay.” Tony opened his mouth to assure Steve that it  _ was  _ okay, but Steve went on, “That I wouldn’t - And then I couldn’t stop booking you.”

“And tonight?” Tony asked.

“I guess - I guess even my self-control has its breaking point.” His expression twisted painfully, and Tony couldn’t help but run a soothing palm over his chest.

“You’re allowed to have things you want, Steve.”

Steve turned to face him, the muscles against Tony’s side shifting as he moved. “I think I want too much.”

Advice another escort had given him when he started flashed through Tony’s mind:  _ They should love you, but by god, don’t let them _ fall  _ in love with you.  _ Tony stared down at Steve, trying to read the space between his words. Then Steve sighed and fell back on the bed looking up at the ceiling. Tony curled up on his chest, afraid to stay on a topic that was so treacherous and potentially painful, but unable to summon the energy to move just yet.

They lay in silence for a while, then Steve chuckled. At Tony’s questioning noise he said, “Your stories are getting wilder and wilder. I’m waiting for the one where you were tied to the railroad tracks and I wooshed in wearing my sheriff’s badge and rescued you just before the train came.” Tony grinned into the bare skin of Steve’s chest. “What do you do if someone calls you on it though? Like what if you meet someone who actually knows mechanical engineering, or whatever?”

Tony thought back to their last party. He’d let it drop to a little old lady in a wheelchair that he was an engineer, and said that he and Steve had met at the library.

“Well, we’d probably talk about computational fluid dynamics or something.”

“Whoa.” Steve looked down at him.

“What? I _ do  _ have a degree in Mechanical Engineering. I actually have three, if you want to be picky about it, one of which is a PhD. So we’d probably find something to talk about.”

“Holy shit. I thought you were only twenty-one?”

Tony shrugged, feeling very much on the spot. It was bad enough that he’d endlessly had this reaction from his peers at school in undergrad; he hated being the youngest kid in every single level of education he worked through. “I am. I’m a fast learner…”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “That’s incredible. Holy shit. I’m really just - wow. I knew you were smart, but, geez. You hide it, you know. You shouldn’t. That’s… incredible.”

A wildfire burst to life in Tony’s chest, flames flickering up and making the backs of eyes feel itchy and hot. “It’s not that big a deal,” he muttered, but Steve’s arm clenched around his waist.

“It is.”

Tony swallowed. “I’ve -” He hesitated. “I’ve actually got another PhD as well. And I’m working on a third. I went to MIT at fifteen.”

He pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at Steve, who was staring at him in painfully uncontrolled admiration. “Jesus. Your family must be -” Steve must have seen something shift in Tony’s face because he cut off sharply. “Sorry.”

Tony shrugged it off. “It’s not a big deal. I just don’t - I don’t talk to my family. They wanted me to follow in my father’s footsteps and I didn’t want to. I’m not exactly proud of my family legacy. So yeah, they don’t even know… Nevermind. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay.” Steve pulled Tony down against his chest again. 

“What about your family?” Tony tried. “They must be really proud of you.”

“Uh, you’ve pretty much met them all,” Steve said. “I was an only child to a single mom and I lost her really young. I joined the army, met the guys - Bucky and Clint and then Sam. There was - I had -” Steve stuttered around the words and Tony waited, still, sensing something big coming. “I was engaged,” Steve said finally, with a sigh. “Peggy. She - uh - she died, while we were serving. She was over there with us and - yeah she died. This house… it was hers. She left me… everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, deeply uncomfortable. It did explain a few things, though. How long it had been since Steve had had someone in his bed, how tense and worried he was - guilty. Tony wanted to say something like, “I’m sure she would have wanted you to be happy,” but it didn’t seem like his place to point that out, so he settled for pressing what he hoped was a comforting hand on Steve’s stomach.

Steve sighed. “Do you have to go?”

Tony nodded, his cheek brushing along Steve’s soft skin. “Yeah, but not right away.” Tony hooked his ankle around Steve’s. “Hey. Steve? Are you going to book me for this again?”

Steve sighed again, painfully resigned. “Yeah, probably.”

“Okay.” Tony tried to relax but the flames flickered on. He couldn’t get Steve’s words out of his head -  _ I want too much.  _ His voice dropped low, little more than a whisper against the curve of Steve’s collarbone. “Don’t let me break your heart, Steve. I like you too much to be responsible for that.”

He felt Steve swallow under him. “Yeah okay,” he whispered back.

Tony stayed much longer than he should have. Long after his mental timer had run out and he was no longer getting paid. Long after what was fair to Steve, considering he had just bared his over-warm feelings - and Tony should be putting an absolute halt to that. But he didn’t.

Steve’s bed was warm, and Steve was warm, and they talked, and Steve made him laugh like no one else could. He kissed him, soft and dangerously tender, before they parted and Tony pushed the key back through the mail slot and took a cab home with a grin on his face.

And it went on. Tony had even more reason to end it, now that he knew Steve had been holding back because he liked Tony more than he should, but he couldn’t. Now that Steve had admitted his feelings, Tony saw it in every smile, in every flicker of his eyes, in the way he ran his palms reverently over Tony’s chest. They weren’t just having a quickie for cash - they were sleeping together - and Tony knew it, and he didn’t care. 

Steve slowly became Tony’s most regular client, booking him more and more often until three times out of five, it was Steve’s arm that Tony hung off of. Knowing he had a dependable regular made Tony more comfortable dumping some of the clients he had never liked that much, but had always been steady money. Steve tipped him well, the parties were fun and easy, and Tony never had to spend an evening pasting concealer over fingertip bruises on his chin, now that he wasn’t seeing Ty.

It was fun, and it was hot, and Tony never broke the rules (though Steve, it seemed, had already broken rule one of sleeping with a prostitute) until he did.

They’d been at a movie premiere - not something Steve would normally be invited to, but Sam had tickets as a company event for all of Peggy’s Promise and Bucky wanted to double date with a girl he’d met at charity HQ. So Steve had booked Tony, and Bucky and his date - Natasha - had piled in the cab with them, and it had all felt very natural and easy. Much simpler than any of the things they’d been to so far. Tony was starting to see what Steve meant by, “Crowds of people I like.” He was ten times more relaxed - and more himself - around his friends. He joked, and messed with Bucky, and asked Natasha prying personal questions until he got Bucky’s prosthetic elbow in his ribs for his trouble.

By the time they reached the premiere, they were all laughing as they tumbled out of the cab. Steve wrapped a warm arm around Tony’s shoulders and held him close all through the movie. It was dark, and the movie was okay, but not that interesting, and Tony couldn’t help himself. His hand slid over the armrest between them and settled on Steve’s thigh, squeezing lightly, before sliding up towards his crotch. Steve’s whole body tensed, but Tony recognized the difference now between a nervous tension and a  _ holy shit I’m thinking about how much I want you to fuck me in the theatre bathroom  _ tension. And it’s not like he would have said no.

Steve’s hand snapped to his wrist, keeping Tony’s touch just out of reach of the good stuff, but letting him tease his way along Steve’s leg. Finally, with a strangled squeak, he pulled Tony’s hand away and wound their fingers together instead. It was too personal and affectionate, in the dark where they had no show to put on, but Tony allowed it because Steve was leaning over to whisper in his ear and his breath and his fingers were warm.

“Not tonight. There’s a - a complication.” His voice was tight and grim.

“What is it?”

Steve sighed. “The floors are being redone at my house. I’m staying with Bucky tonight.”

Well, damn. Ice water doused the growing fire in Tony’s belly. That was a bummer. “That’s too bad,” he whispered back, letting his breath tickle Steve’s ear and hearing his throat click.

“Yeah, for both of us. Pretty sure Bucky wouldn’t mind some alone time with his new girl too, but I have nowhere to go. Since I’m a good friend, I guess I’ll be spending the evening at an all-night diner until the sock comes off the door.” Steve smiled and rolled his eyes, settling back into his chair and turning his face towards the screen.

Tony had an idea. And it was a horrible idea. But once it wriggled into his mind, he couldn’t let it go. He should suggest a hotel room, he should, but he hated asking people to spend more money, and Steve was dropping tons on him already. Plus this premiere meant everything within walking distance would be booked solid, anyway. But that was still what he should do. Steve would probably heave a sigh, and shake his head a little and say, “Nah, we’ll just call it an early night,” because the hotel was more complication, and he’d be too embarrassed to book a room for just a few hours. But still, that’s what Tony should do - would do with anyone else - to show he was interested without putting anything on the line.

But this was Steve, and for some bizarre, unhealthy, crazy reason, Tony trusted Steve. And he really wanted to get laid tonight.

“You could come to my place.”

Tony could see Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, even in the dark. He looked over at Tony and opened his mouth. Tony waited for the inevitable stammering brush-off, but instead, Steve’s eyes flicked down to where their hands were wound together in his lap and he huffed out a sharp breath. “Is that okay?”

Tony shrugged. “Sure, why not? As long as you promise not to come murder me in the middle of the night sometime.”

Steve’s lips twitched up. “Ah, can’t make that promise, sorry. Sometimes I just get the urge for a midnight murder.”

A loud shush came from the seat behind them and the two men sprang apart, holding back a laugh. Their eyes twitched towards each other and Steve’s smile deepened while Tony squeezed his lips together to keep from saying something silly and angering the person behind them further.

When the movie was over, Steve spoke to Bucky in a whispered rush, while Tony caught Natasha’s eye and they grinned knowingly at each other. Steve reappeared at Tony’s side, as the other couple slid into a cab alone, Bucky’s arm wrapping around Natasha’s shoulders as they pulled away. Steve hovered in front of Tony, looking nervous but keyed up, and Tony had to admit, he knew the feeling.

“So...” Steve started. “Are you sure it’s okay if we go to your place? I totally understand if you don’t want to. It’s kinda -”

Tony waved a hand. “It’s cool. It’s just - ah - it’s a bit of a mess. I want to say ‘right now,’ but the truth is, it’s always a bit of a mess.”

“I don’t mind.” Steve was suddenly very close and looming over Tony, looking down at him with palpable hunger. “I don’t think I’m going to be paying much attention to the decor.”

Tony grinned.

Of course, it turned out to be a lie. Steve had no idea what he was in for. He shot Tony a confused look as he typed a code into the panel he’d attached to the massive wooden doors, then Steve’s jaw dropped as Tony pushed them open. “Oh my god. You live here?!”

Tony found himself suddenly uneasy. He hadn’t shown his place to anyone except Rhodey, who saw it once, last year when he’d been on leave. But he hadn’t been in town since, and Tony had no other friends besides a few casual acquaintances he’d argued robotics with at school, and sometimes chatted with online now. He’d never even considered bringing another client home. Steve was rapidly shifting into something else, though, and he didn’t know what. “Uh. Yeah.”

Steve got stuck in the doorway, his eyes flitting over the piles of gears and circuit boards, then back to the mattress on the floor then up to the tall stained glass windows. Embarrassment slammed into Tony like a Mack truck. This was such a stupid idea. He was supposed to be charming Steve, showing him a good time so he’d shell out more cash, not showing him the pit he lived in and hoping for what? Approval? He’d lived like this for so long, he forgot how disgusting it was.

“You know what, nevermind. It’s even worse than I thought. We should get a hote-”

“What’s this?” Steve picked up a partial robotic arm, eyes wide, turning it over in his hands.

Tony shuffled from foot to foot. He had to get Steve out of here as soon as possible. “Steve.”

Steve stopped pawing through his projects and lifted his eyes to Tony. “What?”

“I - let’s forget it, okay? You were probably right to call it an early night. I’ll grab you a cab.” He muttered something non-committal about refunding Steve’s money and turned towards the door, but a hand wrapped around his arm, gentle but firm.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” Steve spun him until they were facing each other again. “Should I not have touched that? Sorry.”

Steve looked so honestly worried that Tony couldn’t help but smile. He pressed a reassuring hand to Steve’s chest. “Yeah, Steve, I’m fine. Sorry. I just - my place is a dump. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“Are you kidding? This place is amazing. Those windows - look at all this cool stuff. This is for your thesis? Man, you weren’t kidding. This is incredible. What does that do?” Steve reached for a mess of wires, then snatched his hand back, blushing. “Sorry.”

A slow, settling relief filled Tony’s core and a tentative smile bloomed as he watched Steve take in his projects. “Uh, that’s a broken blender, and you can touch whatever you want.” He sidled up beside Steve, the heat from the theatre reigniting. “Whatever you want.”

Steve’s gaze turned from the blender to Tony, shifting from fascination to desire in a heartbeat. “Are you sure? If you’re not comfortable with me here. We can go - I can go.”

“No, it’s okay. I - I thought _ you  _ wouldn't be comfortable here. Your place is so clean and - this - uh - isn’t…”

“Are you kidding me? This is the coolest apartment I’ve ever been in. How can you even afford it?”

Tony tried not to smile, realizing that Steve had missed the unpleasant direction his answer could take them in. Tony resisted the urge to say, “People like you,” since it would probably bother Steve and wasn’t actually true. “I do favours for the person who owns it, and she lets me live here for free. It’s more of a shithole than it looks. The pretty windows distract you from the rats.”

Steve made a valiant attempt at smiling but something had shut down, something that Tony didn’t want to see shut down. “Not that kind of favour, Steve. This kind of favour.” He tapped the robotic arm. Steve brightened while clearly trying desperately to make it look like he didn’t care, and Tony resisted the urge to laugh affectionately. He shouldn’t find it funny - it should be sad, or scary, that Steve was uncomfortable with Tony being with other people - but he couldn’t help it. Steve’s face was adorable.

And then suddenly it wasn’t adorable anymore, it was  _ heated  _ and Tony was being backed up towards the bed, his shirt rucked up as Steve ran flat palms over his back. They didn’t kiss, their eyes locked instead, and they breathed out hard, in sync, as they stumbled backwards. Tony’s hands dropped to Steve’s belt and clung there, holding on for dear life as the tension between them threatened to knock him to the floor.

The back of Tony’s feet hit the mattress and he stopped, Steve taking the last step that slotted him solidly into Tony’s space. His mouth fell to Tony’s neck. “Tony…”

“What do you want?” Tony reverted to the safety of his normal approach.

Steve’s answer was lost to the skin under Tony’s collar, but it sounded dangerously like, “Everything.” Steve spun and tumbled onto the mattress, pulling Tony down on top of him. They’d never shed clothes so fast, each focusing on their own to make the process quicker, instead of the showy, but often fumbly, foreplay of undressing each other. Finally naked, Tony pushed Steve flat on his back, running his hands down his incredible arms until their hands wove together. He bent over and kissed him hard.

Steve gave under him, relaxing into his touch, his eyes flickering shut. Tony brushed his nose along Steve’s jawline. “You like it when I take you apart, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Steve hissed out, arching up and pressing his erection against Tony’s thigh. 

“Then, that’s what I’m going to do,” Tony promised, and Steve whimpered. Tony pushed at him gently until Steve rolled onto his stomach. He looked back over his shoulder and a hot blush had broken out across his cheeks. Tony kissed the cheek closest to him then pressed a hand to Steve’s back, urging him to lie flat. Steve buried his face in the pillows, his arms hanging off the other end of the mattress, and huffed out a long, shaky breath. Tony drew a line of kisses down Steve’s spine, following with his hands and - _ good god  _ \- his back was perfection. Smooth skin and firm ridges of muscles arched and writhed under his touch, until he was feeling a little taken apart himself.

Tony spread Steve’s ass with his hands and, without any warning, licked a wide swathe over his hole. Steve cried out and jerked away from the touch, then, gasping, pressed back into it.

“Oh my god, Tony,” he whimpered, muffled by the pillows. Steve falling to pieces was such an amazing sound, and Tony wanted more of it. He pressed his face against Steve’s ass and teased at him with his tongue, running the tip lightly around the rim, then pressing in until Steve started huffing out broken off curses, his whole body tensing under Tony’s onslaught. 

Tony licked and sucked and teased until Steve’s ass was a sopping mess and he was all but weeping into the pillows. Tony knew what Steve liked, what he wanted, now, so he grabbed a condom and slicked himself up, pinning Steve to the mattress with his body weight as he pressed inside. Steve liked it a little hard, a little shy of ready, and Tony was rewarded with a long, low moan as he rocked deep inside.

Seeing Steve spread flat and losing control on Tony’s sheets was a new kind of incredible. Pleasure burst hot in Tony’s core, and he pressed his forehead to Steve’s back, breathing deeply and holding off, needing to get Steve there first. Steve started arching back into Tony’s thrusts, rubbing his cock against the sheets. He wrapped his arms around the edge of the mattress, using the leverage to push back onto Tony’s cock and  _ fuck  _ that was an incredible angle. Every thrust was so deep and so smooth and Steve was whimpering now, his legs shaking as he fought to hold himself in the perfect position. Tony shoved one knee under Steve’s, pushing up until he folded it out to the side, propping himself up, then dropped his hand between Steve’s legs to grip his cock. He didn’t even have to stroke, his hand wrapped around, squeezed once, and Steve came with a cry, pulsing on the sheets, and dripping over Tony’s fist. He buried his face in the pillows and gasped through his release, his muscles clenching and rippling around Tony’s cock.

Tony thrust wildly now, recklessly chasing his own pleasure as Steve went limp under him. He knew it was probably too hard and Steve would be sore in the morning, but he also knew they both liked that idea, even if they couldn’t talk about it. He used Steve roughly until he found the edge and tumbled over into white-out pleasure and release. 

They both moaned when Tony pulled out, then lay panting and sweaty, side by side on the bed, for a long time.

When they were both breathing more easily, Steve turned his face towards Tony and smiled, then sighed. “I should go, but I’m jello.” He laughed lightly.

Well, fuck, the rule was already broken, time to obliterate it. “You can stay, tonight. You know, give Bucky and Nat time together.” And how fucked up was it that Tony knew his client’s friends that well? He couldn't remember the name of a single person Ty had introduced him to. He couldn’t even remember the name of some of his actual clients. And here he was making exceptions for Steve’s friends. What the fuck. But it was already out there.

“Really? No, I should go.” Steve shuffled a little, but didn’t seem able to summon the energy to sit up. Tony laughed.

“Nah, stay. I’ll be right back.” He patted Steve on the butt, then wandered off to the bathroom. He threw away the condom and grabbed a big glass of water and a damp washcloth. It wasn’t that late, but after they’d had a drink and cleaned up, they both curled up on Tony’s bed, faces tipped up towards the massive stained glass windows.

“What are they of?” Steve asked.

“I dunno, saints? I never went to church. I call that guy Alphonse, though.” Tony pointed. “And the rabbit is called Twitch because I knew this girl when I was a kid and she had a rabbit called Twitch - fuck, that rabbit hated me. So I call that little, smug asshole Twitch and whenever I have a bad night I flip him off and I feel better.”

Steve laughed, deep and real. “What about the other guy?”

Tony shrugged, using the movement to conceal his small shuffle up against Steve’s side. Steve wasn’t fooled; he tucked an arm around Tony’s neck and drew him even closer, rubbing his cheek against his hair. “He doesn’t have a name.”

“He looks like he smells something bad.”

“He does.”

“You should call him Nick.”

“Alright.”

A moment of silence hung between them. “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying?” Steve asked. “This is your last chance to kick me out before I’m dead to the world and it’ll take a crane to move me.”

Tony chuckled. “It’s fine.” He wanted to add, “It’s nice,” but he held back.

“Thanks.” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s hair and relaxed into the sheets. 

Tony woke to the sounds of Steve getting dressed. He blinked in the early morning light and propped himself up on one hand, rubbing the other over his face in an attempt to clear away the heaviness of sleep that still settled over him. 

“Sorry,” Steve whispered. “I tried not to wake you.”

“What time is it?” Tony slurred.

“Early. But I have to go to Bucky’s then meet the flooring people.”

“‘Kay.” Tony took a deep breath and smacked his mouth open and closed, trying to find consciousness. 

“Go back to sleep.” Steve crouched next to the mattress. He’d only gotten as far as his pants, and Tony’s hand reached out of its own accord to pet his perfect abs while they were still bare. Steve laughed. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.” Tony sighed and settled back down in the sheets. The last thing he saw before drifting off was Steve smiling down at him, his blonde hair dancing with green and purple and red from the windows.


	3. Chapter Three

A shiver jolted up Tony’s spine and he looked down at his feet in the snow. He was only wearing running shoes in the middle of winter. And pajama pants. Where was his jacket? His hand clenched around his phone and he dropped his eyes to it. Rhodey. Rhodey had called. Was he still on the line? Tony brought the phone to his ear, but it was silent. 

The world swung in a violent circle, and Tony stumbled to the right, trying to catch himself. His hand closed on a snow-covered railing. Where was he? A sharp noise brought Tony’s focus up in front of him - he was standing in front of a door and it was opening. It swung wide and revealed Steve, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, blinking and sleep-muddled. “Tony?”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Why had he come here? He dropped his gaze to his phone again. Rhodey had called...

“God, what are you wearing? It’s the middle of winter. Tony, are you alright?” Steve stepped forward and when Tony didn’t move, gripped the corner of his t-shirt and tugged until he stumbled inside. “You’re freezing.” Steve kicked the door shut and rubbed two heated palms up and down Tony’s bare arms, kicking the numbed nerves into overdrive at the contact.

Tony shivered and tucked unconsciously into the warm space of Steve’s chest. “I -” he tried.

Steve looked down at him, concern etched into his features, then guided Tony into the living room where he plunked him on the couch and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Steve sat opposite him on the coffee table, their knees bumping together, and held Tony’s frozen hands between his, Tony’s phone sandwiched in the middle. “Tony, what happened? Are you hurt? Do you need me to call someone?” Steve’s voice had dropped low and gentle. He ducked his chin until he caught Tony’s eyes and brought them back up to meet his. “Tell me what’s wrong, please?”

It crossed Tony’s mind that he hadn’t seen Steve since Wanda’s party three weeks ago - and that thought flickered like a red warning light he’d lost the label for. Tony gazed up at the man he couldn’t remember falling in love with but realized now, with painfully heavy clarity, that he did. “My parents are dead.”

**

After Tony had Steve over to his place, Steve called him more and more, and Tony all but stopped accepting other clients. Steve never again sent Tony home after they went out, asking him up for a drink every time, and Tony readily accepted. More often than not, they didn’t bother going out at all. 

Taking Steve apart with his hands and mouth and cock was an incredible feeling. Steve gave everything to Tony without the hesitation that he really should have, and it was glorious to see. Tony’s other clients began to bore him, the thrill he used to get from sucking off some rich politician in the back of his limo became drab and tiresome when the other option was fucking Steve into his mattress while he gasped out desperate pleas and twisted grey sheets between uncontrolled fingers.

Tony knew it was risky, putting one client above the others, and he knew he liked Steve more than was healthy. But he also knew this was fleeting fun and while it would hurt when it was over - when Steve met someone real or stopped needing a date to charity vents - he wouldn’t regret having had a good time while he could.

So every time Tony saw Steve’s client number come up on his app, he found himself smiling at his phone on the subway, rearranging his plans for the evening to include Steve. And then there was always that moment, standing on Steve’s front stoop, and waiting for the door to open to see if he was getting suit Steve, or khakis Steve, or soft t-shirt Steve, always made his heart jump into overdrive. Every Steve promised a good time.

About six weeks after Steve became Tony’s  only favourite client, he knocked on the door and when it opened, got a surprise. It was a new Steve - dark, fitted jeans and a button up shirt, hair slicked into place, and looking flushed. Tony grinned. The days were getting shorter and it was already getting dark. There was a telltale crisp in the air; it would probably snow soon. Light spilled out onto the stoop, lighting Steve up from behind. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Tony stepped inside, pushing the door shut behind him. Steve disappeared down the hall, socked feet padding across the wood floor.

“I’m running late!” he called from the living room. Tony followed his voice and found him at the dining table, fighting with ribbon and a roll of scotch tape.

“You’re always running late. What’s that?”

Steve shuffled, rubbing one socked toe against the arch of his other foot. “Um, we’re actually, not going to a big event tonight. I hope you don’t mind. It’s actually, it’s uh - it’s my niece's birthday.” He muttered out the last line as a blush bloomed across his cheeks.

Tony shuffled closer, actually feeling nerves for the first time about a gig. “It’s a family thing?” He tried to sound okay with it.

“Yeah.” Steve poked at the ribbon dejectedly. “I know it’s not our usual thing so if you’re not okay with it, I understand. You can go home or - or -” Steve stumbled over his words. His voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “Or wait here…”

Tony grinned, finding his footing again in the face of Steve’s nerves. He could do a family party, it couldn’t be that different, could it? “I’ll come.” Steve deflated, relieved. “Must admit I’m surprised you asked me though. You don’t really need pretty arm candy for a birthday party, do you? I mean, they all know you, it’s not the same pressure.”

“I guess… I just, I feel better when you’re there.” Steve shrugged then set the ribbon down and met Tony’s eyes. His voice lowered again. “I know it’s probably not really a good idea. They’ll ask questions and it’s not fair to put you in that situation, but I just… I wanted you to come. Ugh.” Steve rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. This is probably really inappropriate. You should go. I’m sorry. I’ll still - I’ll still. Pay.”

Tony crossed the small space between them and hooked his hand around the back of Steve’s neck. “Hey. I said I’d come. It’s okay, Steve.”

Steve leaned into the touch. “It’s a date, Tony. It’s too much like a date.”

A tight band of anxiety coiled around Tony’s chest. Steve was right and he should say no. “It’s fine,” he said instead. “I’m not going to break your heart at your niece's party, am I?” It was meant to be a joke, but it came out a bit desperate instead.

“Yeah…” Steve dropped his gaze back to the present.

“I’ll do ribbon. Go find your shoes.” Tony shooed him away and started taking apart the horrific attempt at wrapping Steve was part way through. Steve walked away, up the stairs, and Tony paused, ribbon twined around his fingers, brow furrowing. This was a bad idea. It felt like a date to him too, and most worrying - he wanted it to be. He wanted to give the money back, and slip his hand into Steve’s and go to this party as his real date, not this mirage of affection. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t reach out and ask Steve to join him in a life that wasn’t real. The cover of being an escort was his armour, making anonymity and secrecy an expectation instead of a red flag. But now it wasn’t protection, it was a barrier between him and Steve’s soft touch and soft smile.

There was a thump from upstairs, and Tony dropped his eyes back to the present. Origami was just spacial relations. A few quick folds and the box was smoothly wrapped with a length of ribbon tied around it. Steve appeared in the doorway, and Tony held up the present. “Oh god, you’re a lifesaver. Okay, the cab is here - you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I’m sure, let’s go.” Tony shooed him out of the house and into the cab. He resisted the urge to shift uneasily as they drove across town. 

It turned out that Steve didn’t have a brother, but Clint and Laura had adopted the kid of one of their army buddies who had died, and she called them all uncle. Clint and Laura’s house was a sweet little semi-detached in a quiet neighbourhood in Brooklyn. There were balloons tied to the porch railing and when they pulled up outside a teenager in a sundress that was altogether too short for the late fall weather flew out of the house screeching “Uncle Steve!” and flung her arms around his neck. 

“This is my niece, Wanda.”

The girl smiled at Tony, a little shyly, but also a little too knowing for her age, shooting Steve a coy look when his back was turned. Tony assumed that “Uncle Steve” didn’t often bring a date to things, let alone a man. But Wanda seemed pleased, and she clearly loved Steve deeply.

Steve introduced Tony to everyone at the party - an eclectic mix of ex-army brothers, giggling teenagers, and local families. Steve carefully didn’t label Tony, merely introducing him by his name and letting everyone make up their own minds about who Tony was to Steve.

Tony felt out of his depth for the first time at his job. He’d charmed rooms of hundreds, and maneuvered sensitive political dinners with ease, but 25 friends in a tiny, Brooklyn back patio, lit by strings of tiny lights, warmed by a crackling fire, and filled with happy music, was too much. Tony hovered by Steve’s side, failing at all of his normal wit and sauvite, stammering when people offered him a drink, or asked him what he did. Wanda handed him a paper plate with a slightly dismantled piece of chocolate birthday cake on it, and Tony felt a new and deeply unpleasant heat behind his eyes. He set the cake down with a shaky smile and bolted for the bathroom.

He shut the door behind him and sat down hard on the fluffy, pink toilet seat cover, letting his face fall into his hands. He didn’t think much time had passed, but a moment later there was a soft knock on the door, and Steve called his name quietly.

“You can come in,” he said, his voice wavering unpleasantly. Steve appeared in the doorway, slipped inside, then closed the door behind him. 

“You okay?” His brow was creased with concern.

“I -” Tony broke off, trying to put into words what was wrong. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just - it’s very.... family…”

Steve sighed and leaned back against the wall. “I know. I’m sorry. I should never have invited you.”

“No! No it’s not that.” Tony picked at his fingernails, finding a spot of black motor oil under one that he had missed when getting cleaned up to come over. “I just - I never really had much of a family or - or a childhood. So it’s all just… a lot. It’s nice though. I’m glad you asked me to come.”

“Oh.” Steve stilled, and Tony realized that, despite all the boundaries they’d recklessly obliterated, he almost never mentioned his upbringing. Tony stood and leaned into Steve’s space.

“I’m sorry. I’m being an awful date. I’m alright now.” Tony gave him a brilliant grin. “I’ll be more fun from now on, promise.”

“Tony…” Steve swallowed, shifting closer as if it were unconscious. “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

_ But I do. I do or it’s real, and this  _ can’t  _ be real,  _ Tony thought. “Not pretending,” and it was such a hooker line, “Just in the wrong mindset. I let myself get overwhelmed, but I’m okay, I promise. Let’s get back down before someone steals my cake.”

Steve studied him for a moment, then nodded, apparently satisfied. “Okay.”

Oh a whim, Tony leaned forward, onto his toes, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. When Steve’s eyebrows shot up, Tony shot him a filthy smirk. “It’s what everyone thinks we’re up here doing anyway.” He winked, and Steve blushed.

Back down at the party, Tony caught a few knowing looks shot their way and enjoyed Steve’s blush all over again. He reclaimed his cake and found a beer, took a deep breath, and forced himself to relax. Once he let himself sink into conversation, it wasn’t really that different from the sort of parties he usually frequented, except that everyone swore like sailors and no topic seemed to be off limits. 

During a lull in the conversation, Laura leaned over and smiled at Tony kindly. “So, how did you two meet, anyway?” she asked.

Tony grinned and opened his mouth then realized he had nothing. All his usual stories evaporated out of his mind and he struggled to come up with something on the spot. “Uh - I was at a party and the friend I went with left. There was this guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, kept following me around and talking to me, trying to get me to give him his number.” Tony immediately thought of Ty - that was probably how that asshole operated at parties. He smiled, getting into the story now. “Anyway, Steve came over and pretended to be my date to the party without even hesitating. He was all ‘Can I get you another drink, babe?’ So of course the other guy fucked off. And then Steve was all adorable, apologizing in case that was out of line. He turned bright red, it was so charming. He said he’d seen it in a movie once, and that I looked like I was about to punch the guy and he didn’t want my night to end in jail.” Tony shrugged and offered Laura a sheepish look. “So I asked him if my night could end with him driving me home instead.”

Laura laughed and something twisted in Tony’s gut. He could almost see things playing out that way. The way Steve would confidently play the white knight then breakdown into uncertainty right after. Talking, flirting, getting a cab home together, inviting Steve in. The exchange of numbers in the morning and then wondering about how long to wait to text. It was all so real, so plausible… It would have been nice if things had gone that way.

“You know, it’s really nice to see Steve happy. His last - his last relationship was a while ago.” Laura paused, and Tony assumed she was calculating how much to tell him. “She died. It was really hard on him and he never talks about her. But you make him smile. It’s nice to see that again.” She must have seen something in Tony’s face because she laughed nervously and backtracked. “Sorry. I’m not assuming you guys are serious or anything - though I can’t remember the last time, before you, that Steve brought a date  _ anywhere  _ let alone here - but, even if it’s not. It’s nice to see him happy.”

Tony swallowed hard around the hard marble of guilt that had settled in his throat. “Yeah, it is,’ he replied softly, eyes flicking over to where Steve was watching Wanda rip open presents with teenage vigor.

Laura and Clint had set up the backyard like a little mock-circus with a popcorn machine and photo booth and other activities. The teenagers formed a crowd on the grass, playing lawn darts and laughing their heads off. 

During a lull in the conversation, Tony wandered off to look at the tiny pond in the corner of the garden. He crouched down, wondering if frogs found there way out here, and when he stood again, a hand slipped into his. He smiled, despite himself, and leaned back into the warmth of Steve’s chest.

“Come here.” Steve tugged, and Tony followed, all the way into the photo booth. He rolled his eyes.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Come on,” Steve laughed, pulling Tony inside, tripping onto the seat so Tony fell into his lap.

“God, you’re such a sap.”

“I’m just engaging with the party activities.” Steve’s eyes twinkled.

“This is for the kids.”

“Well. You said you never got to do this kind of thing as a kid,” Steve pointed out gently. “So say cheese!”

Tony turned to the camera as Steve pushed the button. A second later it flashed and Tony chuckled to himself, realizing how awkward and stiff his smile must be. It flashed again, and Tony turned after to look at Steve, wondering what face he was making, but instead of looking at the camera, Steve was looking at Tony. Tony barely noticed the third flash, but just in time for the fourth, he dove in, pressing his lips to Steve’s cheek, making him burst out laughing. 

They tumbled out of the booth and right into Wanda. “Oh, Tony! I was trying to find you. The popcorn machine stopped working and Uncle Steve says you’re good with building things…”

Tony started, his mouth falling open. When had Steve said that? “Yeah, sure. Lead on.” Wanda grinned at him and set off for the popcorn machine which was surrounded by a group of disappointed teens, poking it and arguing over what might be wrong. Tony rolled up his sleeves and pushed through the group. “Stand back! I’m going to try  _ science.” _ The kids giggled, forming a crowd around him as Tony opened the panel in the bottom and pulled out the mess of wires that controlled the heating element.

It turned out to be a loose connection, easily fixed but the kids were awed. Once it was working again, they presented Tony with one of Wanda’s gifts, a starter robotics kit, and they spread it out on the deck while Tony talked them through the foundations of robotics. By the end of the evening, Tony was full of cake, a little tipsy, and responsible for the robot wars that were currently taking place on the deck. 

A hand landed on the back of his neck, and he tipped his head up from where he sat next to the robot repair station and caught Steve’s eye. He leaned backwards until he pressed against Steve’s calf. “Time to go,” Steve said softly.

Tony started and checked his watch, it was after midnight. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I disappeared on you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve’s smile was warm and full of affection. “The kids loved you.”

Tony stood, and Steve wrapped an arm around his middle, drawing him past the lingering guests, calling goodbyes and waving. “Yeah, but I was here for you.”

Steve stopped him as they reached the waiting cab, turning Tony’s back against the car door and crowding him up against it. “You were perfect,” he whispered, cupping Tony’s face in two hands and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

_ Abort!  _ Tony’s mind screamed, but his hands came up to clutch Steve’s shirt in two fists over his stomach and his lips parted, letting Steve’s tongue sweep inside. Steve pulled away too soon, and hustled Tony into the cab, drawing him back against him once the door was shut and the driver given directions to Steve’s place.

They didn’t speak, not for the cab ride, not as they tumbled into Steve’s house, wrapped around each other, not as clothes hit the floor, leaving a trail up to Steve’s bedroom. This was different, they both knew it, but they both chose to ignore it. 

They tripped into Steve’s bed, kicking their way up onto the mattress awkwardly, refusing to part. Tony knew where to find the condoms and lube - knocking one hand around wildly until he found the right drawer - and he knew exactly what Steve wanted. He rolled them both until Steve was stretched out on his side, Tony pressed up against his back. He ground his hips forward to rub his erection against Steve’s ass and felt Steve’s full-body shudder as he moaned.

Slick fingers found Steve’s hole, barely teasing before pressing in. It felt like the foreplay had been endless already, even though they’d only just made it back. The whole night had felt like foreplay, spinning Tony’s head wild and giddy. Steve didn’t seem to mind the rush, arching back into Tony’s hand and gasping out Tony’s name. For the first time, Tony was deeply grateful he’d been too uncreative to come up with a fake name for escorting. It would have been a very unusual, but very real kind of pain to hear someone else’s name on Steve’s lips in this moment.

His usual, careful process for making sure his clients had the best time they could slipped away in the rush of need and pleasure. Steve’s ankle hooked around his, tugging him closer. Tony fumbled the condom on, his breath already coming in short pants, then pushed forward, forcing himself to slow down. But Steve arched back into Tony’s hips and drew him in, groaning as Tony stretched him open, their bodies sliding together.

“Fuck, Steve, you feel so good,” Tony huffed out, and it wasn’t a line. 

Steve could only moan in response, shifting his hips to encourage Tony into a rhythm. Giving into it happily, Tony braced himself on the comforter and thrust into him, pushing Steve’s thighs wide and holding a firm grip on his hips to draw him closer with every forward roll. Time went fuzzy, lost in the intensity of Steve’s body drawing him in. Tony’s hand found Steve’s cock, stroking him rough and eager. Every moan, every whisper of Tony’s name, cracked Tony’s resolve a little further until he was panting into the space between Steve’s shoulder blades with the desperation of a man on a cliff edge, knowing he was moments from slipping over into oblivion, but needing to hold on a moment longer. He’d never come before a client, but he was dangerously close this time. He wanted to feel Steve come on his cock, though, clenching around him and writhing through the shock of pleasure.

“Please come for me Steve,” he begged. “I need you to, I need to feel you, please.” Tony pulled Steve’s hips back towards him, trying to hit the spot that made Steve’s fingers clench in the blankets with every thrust.

_ “Fuck -”  _ Steve broke off into a litany of half-formed cuss words, then his whole body went taut, eyes squeezed shut. His muscles clamped around Tony’s cock, rippling with every pulse of his orgasm. Come shot across his chest and onto the sheets and dribbled down Tony’s hand. There was nothing Tony could do now - with Steve’s heat pulsing arounding his cock and his hand slick from Steve’s come - but slip over the edge, letting go and slamming into Steve’s ass one last time, sinking his teeth into Steve’s shoulder as his orgasm wracked through him.

Steve’s hand slid, sweaty and overheated, down Tony’s arm to wrap around his wrist. Both their chests were heaving against each other. When he could think again, Tony pulled free of Steve’s body and tied the condom off, tossing it in the trash can in the corner. Steve’s blissed out body was unbelievably tempting - he knew he’d be welcome beside him in bed for as long as he wanted - but they’d pretended enough for one night. He had to end this. 

Tony bent down and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, who gazed up at him - dopey but smiling sadly. “Thank you,” Tony whispered, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if Steve could hear him. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t. It felt too much like, “I’m sorry.”

Tony gathered his clothes and let himself out, locking the door behind him and pushing the key through the mail slot. He waited for his cab out in the street, hoping the cool air would clear his churning mind, but with no luck.

The next time Steve booked him, a week and a half later, Tony hit “Reject.”

**

“What?” Steve’s hands clenched around Tony’s.

“My parents… Rhodey just called. They - there was an accident…” Tony’s eyes dropped to his phone again, as if it would burst into life and call out, “Just kidding!” But it stayed silent.

“Oh my god. I - Tony I’m so sorry. They both…?”

Tony nodded. “Dad was driving. He hit a tree or something and… they’re both dead.”

Steve’s shifted forward, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders and pulling him against his chest. His arms were strong, and warm, and so real, and for the first time since Rhodey’s call had pulled him out of sleep, Tony felt like the world was solid and still under him. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need a ride somewhere? Should I call someone?”

Tony pulled back out of the hug and searched Steve’s face, trying to process the questions. “No - I - there’s a flight… I’m going home tomorrow morning. I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” As he said it, the realization of what he’d done came crashing down around him. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to force clearheadedness. Steve was a client for fucks sake, and he’d just woken him at god knows what time for  _ comfort.  _ It was humiliating. “I shouldn’t have come here. Fuck, Steve, I’m so sorry. The call woke me up and I wasn’t thinking straight - I don’t even remember the cab ride over - I must have taken a cab - but this was so inappropriate. I’m so sorry. I’ll go. Please don’t -” Tony cut off the  _ please don’t hate me  _ with a sharp swallow. He tried to stand, but hands held him firmly in his seat.

“Don’t you dare. I’m not letting you go anywhere like this. I know our… relationship… is -” Steve coughed “- unusual. But I still think of you as a friend, Tony. Don’t go. I don’t want you to be alone tonight, either. Unless there’s someone you’d rather be with? Someone I can call to come get you?”

It was horrifically bad timing to be fretting about Steve calling him a friend, but that’s what Tony’s mind stuck on.  _ Steve thinks of you as a friend.  _ He had no idea how he felt about that. It was simultaneously wonderful that Steve liked him enough that he didn’t just think of his as arm candy for hire like most of Tony’s clients did, and gut wrenching to be reminded that what they had between them wasn’t real. It wasn’t dating, it wasn’t sleeping together, it was Tony doing a job for someone who was now also a friend.

And to make matters even worse... “There’s no one to call. You’re my only friend here,” Tony spat out with venom he didn’t even realize had been building up behind his teeth. He had no one at all, except a man that paid to fuck him, and an old college buddy that was halfway around the globe. That was what brought it all to a breaking point, and Tony dropped his face into his hands, the shivering starting again despite the warmth of Steve’s home.

Steve hooked a finger under Tony’s chin and tipped it up until their eyes met. His expression was warm and open and pained; he really felt for Tony, Tony couldn’t deny that. As fucked up as all of this was, Steve  _ did  _ care. His finger brushed lightly across Tony’s cheek. “I’m going to make you some coffee - decaf - do you want to sit here and I’ll turn on the fire? Or come into the kitchen?”

It was a simple straightforward question, and the choice gave Tony’s mind something solid to hold on to. “Kitchen,” he answered, voice less stable than he would have liked. The fire was nice, but Steve’s heat was nicer.

“Okay.” Steve held out a hand and when Tony slipped his inside, Steve pulled him gently to his feet and led him to the kitchen, the blanket still around his shoulders. Steve wove his fingers between Tony’s and began the soothing process of brewing coffee one-handed. Tony followed him around the kitchen, mind alternating between blank, noiseless static, and sharp, shapeless panic. None of it seemed real yet. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, gripping the edge of it with two awkward fingers while the rest clutched his phone. 

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as the maker hissed and spluttered. Steve pulled down two mugs and took the milk out of the fridge. While the coffeemaker worked away, he leaned back against the counter and drew Tony in between his splayed legs. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders again and eased Tony’s face against his chest. He smelled like his laundry detergent and deodorant, mixing in a weirdly spicy, floral way, but so familiar that Tony’s heart skipped and stuttered. He felt soft lips press against his forehead and, for a moment, he let himself pretend.

When the coffeemaker hissed out its final drips, Steve gently shifted Tony back and stepped away to pour the coffee. The gravity of what he was facing settled heavily over Tony, threatening to crumple him to the ground, so he shoved it away hard, into a box he knew he would have to open tomorrow morning, but for now… for now he wanted to be here with Steve, held, pretend he was loved, pretend this was real - this life, this Tony, Steve’s feelings - and not think about anything else.

Steve handed him a mug of coffee and the warmth in his hands, and the familiar smell drifting up from the cup in curls of steam, was grounding. “Can I stay here tonight? I know it’s awful of me to ask but -”

“No.” Steve cut him off. “It’s not awful. Of course you can stay. I wouldn’t let you go out like this anyway, not unless someone was coming to get you.”

“There’s no one…” Tony repeated.

“Well then, I’ve got you,” Steve whispered. Instead of leading them back to the couch, he took Tony’s hand again and walked him upstairs. He set aside Tony’s mug on the bedside table, then lifted the covers and eased Tony in. He climbed into bed himself, shuffling over until he was pressed against Tony’s side, his arm around his shoulders. Tony took his mug between both hands and snuggled into Steve’s hold, his cheek against his chest. He sipped at the coffee and the strong, bitter wash on his tongue grounded him further. 

They could just be a regular couple, on a Sunday morning, wrapped up in each other, cozy against the snow outside, and enjoying coffee in bed. When Tony closed his eyes and breathed in Steve’s scent, his parents didn’t have to be dead, this didn’t have to be his last night in Steve’s arms.

They were silent while they sipped their coffee. Tony wondered if Steve thought it was better not to say anything, if he was waiting for Tony to speak, or if he couldn’t think of anything to say. Tony certainly couldn’t. What did people normally say in moments like these? Did Steve expect him to talk about his parents? He didn’t want to. 

“Can you tell me about your day or something? Just - anything.” Tony’s voice was scratchy and he coughed to clear it, following with the last, strong sip of coffee.

Steve set their empty mugs aside, then he shifted them down into the bed, drawing the blanket up over Tony’s chest and began to talk. Tony wasn’t really listening to the words - he couldn’t - but Steve’s voice was low and even and every now and then Tony could hear the eye roll in his voice and know he was talking about Sam, or the warm affection that meant Bucky, or the light laughter that meant Wanda.

Tony wondered if Steve would talk about Peggy again, but he didn’t. He almost wished he would. He wanted to ask how Steve had done it. How he had gone through loss and made it out the other side with his whole life turned upside down but with his heart still beating, somehow. How he dealt with all his happy plans suddenly twisted and snapped and tossed aside into nothingness. But he didn't.

Steve’s voice became a low murmur, then a distant drone, then nothing.

Tony woke in the cool, grey light of a winter morning, only a few hours later. He could stay - the plane wouldn’t leave without him - but he was sure that if Steve woke, and Tony saw his face in the light of day, he would never leave. Or he’d do something insane like confess his entire life story and beg Steve to come home with him.

He slipped out of bed, gingerly peeling Steve’s arm from around his middle, and made sure the covers were still snug and warm around the sleeping man. He took his phone, and both their mugs and stood in the doorway for a long time, staring. Steve looked younger in sleep, closer to Tony’s age and farther from the man that stood on stage and accepted pins on his chest with stiff-backed grace. This was the man Tony had fallen in love with. And this was the man he could never have. 

Tony made his way down to the kitchen, rinsed out both mugs and put them in the dishwasher - he might have been a slob at home, but the sleek perfection of Steve’s house always made him twitchy about making a mess - then pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a long time before typing in a long number with a long extension that he had memorized years ago.

“Hello?” came a crisp, female voice. 

Tony took a deep breath. “This is Anthony Stark.” There was a gasp on the other end of the telephone, then the woman’s sharp professionalism returned.

“Mr. Stark, how nice to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

“I need a car. I need it to go to my place first and pick up three things: the garment bag hanging off the back of the bathroom door, and the suitcase and briefcase that are under the bed. Then I need it to pick me up and take me to JFK.” Tony provided his keycode, his address, and Steve’s. “Don’t knock, just wait. I’ll come down. Call Reggie and have the plane ready in two hours.”

“Absolutely. Anything else, Mr. Stark?”

“Yes, I need a crew to come later to pack up everything in my apartment and hold it in storage. I’ll probably want it shipped, but I’ll let you know. For now, just hold it.”

“Certainly, Sir.”

Tony disconnected, not bothering to say goodbye, a very old, but unpleasantly familiar knot was forming between his shoulder blades. He hadn’t felt it in a long time. He knew he should go, but he couldn’t help but risk one last look at Steve. He turned into the bedroom at the top of the stairs. Steve had spread out since Tony’s departure, leaching into the warm space Tony had left in a tangle of long limbs. The blanket had slipped down to reveal two sculpted shoulder blades and a long line of kissable neck. Tony’s hands twitched against his thighs, eager to touch, but he held back. 

Steve’s back rose and fell gently with his breath. Half of Tony wished desperately that he would wake, pull Tony into his arms and demand he tell him everything, and then demand to come with him when he knew. The other half was panicked at the thought of facing Steve again, of trying to find the words to apologize for the only rational way this was going to go. He wasn’t going to wake up; Tony was going to run without saying goodbye. He was good at that.

He must have stood there for a lot longer than he realized, because the next thing he knew, tires were crunching in the snow outside. His car was here. As he turned to go, he noticed a mirror over the dresser that he’d never really looked at before. But from his position in the doorway, he could see that Steve had tucked little mementos around the edge of the frame. There was a stub from a ticket to one of Wanda’s skating shows, a picture of Steve and Bucky in army fatigues, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning, a portrait of a woman who must be Peggy, and a delicate gold band on a chain, a few things Tony didn’t understand - receipts and ticket stubs and bits of paper - and there was a strip of pictures from a photo booth. It was the photo booth from Wanda’s party, and the pictures were of Tony and Steve. 

Tony had never seen the result of their goofy photo shoot, Wanda had dragged him away to fix the popcorn maker as soon as the final flash had gone off, and he’d assumed that Steve had never bothered to collect them. But there they were, in a row, and tucked snug amongst all of Steve’s treasures. Tony’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest. He reached out and plucked the pictures down. In the first, they were both looking at the camera, smiling fake, stiff smiles. In the second, Steve had turned to look at Tony, beaming with affection and Tony’s smile had faded into something smaller, but more natural. In the third, they looked at each other, a laugh already half formed on both their lips. In the last, Tony’s lips were pressed to Steve’s cheek as he threw his head back and laughed fully, arms around Tony’s middle, holding him close.

Tony held the pictures for a long time, then tore the strip carefully in half. He placed the half with the last two pictures back in the mirror and tucked the first two carefully in his pocket. He might never have anyone look at him that way again - he wanted to save it forever, as stupid and frivolous as that was.

Downstairs, he found his shoes carefully overturned on the heating grate, dry and pleasantly warm. He pulled them on and slipped out to the car. He called up to the driver to wait, pulling the briefcase he’d asked him to bring to the edge of the seat so he could rifle through it. He tripped back up to Steve’s door, went in, and placed the wad of crisp hundred dollar bills he held in his hand on the sideboard, under Steve’s wallet. It was everything Steve had ever paid him. He took Steve’s key, locked the door behind him, then stuffed the key back through the mailbox as he had so many times before. This time, for the last time.

The back of the town car was cold, but Tony didn’t bother asking the driver to turn up the heat. He probably deserved to suffer. He stripped off the pajamas he was still wearing from last night and awkwardly changed in the suit from his garment bag as they drove along. He didn’t have a change of shoes, but the sneakers felt right - they felt like him even if nothing else did. 

“Pull over here for a second?” Tony asked and the car came to a halt. Tony tripped out into the brisk morning. There was a trash can next to a bus stop and he shoved his pajamas inside, then took his phone out of his pocket. He stared at it for a long time. With a heavy sigh, Tony dropped the phone to the ground, stomped on it hard, then took it apart, throwing each piece into the trash can, broken, finishing by snapping the SIM card in half. 

By the time they pulled up at the airport, the sun was brilliant and bright, and Tony pulled dark sunglass out of his suitcase and tucked them on his face. He caught a glance of himself in the rearview mirror and tensed - fuck, he looked so much like his dad. 

Tony breezed through the airport on autopilot, his mind still back in a brownstone in Brooklyn, tucked between a fleece blanket and a broad chest. When he climbed the steps of a small, sleek plane with STARK blazed on the side, he was met by a young woman and a man in uniform. The man held the radio in one hand, ready to call through to file their flight plan.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” They both said politely, too good at their jobs to gape at the man they hadn’t seen in so long. “Where are we headed today?”

Tony took a deep breath, then threw himself into one of the lush, leather seats in the main cabin. “I’m going home, Reggie. Take me to L.A.”


	4. Chapter Four

No one met Tony at the airport. If they even knew he was coming, they wouldn’t have found out with enough notice to be there. One call, and a short wait, and a sleek, black car with heavily tinted windows pulled up, and Tony climbed in. The driver put his suitcase in the back, but Tony kept the briefcase with him, clutching it tight. They wound their way through LA until they pulled up to the long drive that led to the Stark Mansion. The security guard at the gate looked at Tony’s ID then waved him through. When they pulled up to the huge front doors, they flew open and Jarvis came striding out. Tony pushed the car door open and stumbled out onto the pavement, feeling all of four years old again while Jarvis took him in. 

“Hey, Jarvis,” Tony tried, picking at the handle of the briefcase he held.

“Oh,  _ Tony,”  _ Jarvis sighed, the lack of honorific startling Tony more than the sudden arms around his shoulders. “I thought we’d lost you forever.”

Tony sunk into the hug and the weight of it all settled over him like an iron blanket. He was home, for the first time in six years, and his parents were dead. He’d missed his chance. Not that he thought he would ever go back, or ever want to see them again, but now he couldn't. He was home, and the only person who cared was Jarvis.

The door opened again. “Is that… Anthony?” Oh yeah, and Obie. “My boy…” Obie gathered him up next, folding Tony into his broad chest, then pulling him back and holding him out by both shoulders so he could look him up and down. “Good god, you’ve grown up.”

“Not so’s you’d notice.” Tony shrugged, squirming under the combined shock and affection of the two men. “It’s okay if I stay here, right?”

“Mr. Stark,” Jarvis, said, falling back into form, the name reminding Tony once again why he was here, “it’s your house now. Of course you can stay here. I’ll make up a room for you.”

Jarvis bustled off, showing the driver where to put Tony’s bags, and Tony and Obie looked at each other. Obie mostly looked the same. He had a little less hair on top and a little more grey in what he had left. He also looked stressed and pinched in a way Tony didn’t remember, but he’d been a kid last time. A lot must have changed.

Obie hooked an arm around Tony’s shoulders and led him inside. “Well, come on then. I want to hear everything.”

_ You really don’t,  _ Tony thought. But he followed Obie into the house, dropping his briefcase by the door. Jarvis made them tea and they settled in the living room, Jarvis and Obie in armchairs and Tony perched on the couch. He felt like a little kid again, being interrogated for messing something up yet again. Though Jarvis had never been anything but Tony’s support and confidant, and Obie had always been the one to ease Howard away, saying, “Go easy on him, old friend, he’s just a kid.”

“So the last we saw you, you were telling your dad to -” Obie coughed “- and storming out with nothing more than a duffle bag full of circuit boards. Where did you go?”

“Boston,” Tony said, not sure how much of this story he should tell. “I went to MIT.”

“Good heavens.” Jarvis’ eyebrows shot up. “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it was pretty good. I got by on scholarships and crashing on a friend’s couch - Rhodey. He looked out for me. Then he graduated and went off to serve in the air force, so I moved to New York. I did a couple of master's degrees and I’ve just been living there ever since.”  _ And fucking people for money,  _ Tony added in his head.  _ Wouldn’t dear old Dad be proud? _

“Well, look at you.” Obie grinned. “Little Tony, back home again. We missed you, bud.” Obie clapped a hand to Tony’s knee.

They spent the next hour talking, catching up, all of them carefully ignoring the elephant in the room with the “Your Parents Are Dead” sign around it’s neck, and Tony carefully tiptoeing around any conversation topic that led down an escort-paved road. He suggested lightly that he made enough money building and designing things, and that he was TA-ing an undergraduate class at City Tech - which he certainly could be doing if anyone would hire someone who would be younger than all the students he’d be teaching - and Obie and Jarvis seemed to accept it.

When the interrogation was over, Tony dragged himself off to his room, leaving Jarvis and Obie shooting looks at each other in the living room. 

Tony wandered the house alone. It had changed, but not as much as he expected it to. Most of the furniture in the most used rooms had been replaced - his mother hated when anything became too old or shabby looking - but the main features were the same. The kitchen hadn’t changed, most of the art was the same, his mom’s piano still sat, large and foreboding, in the corner of the den.

Tony padded down the long hall to the small bedroom at the end. It had been a guest room, but Tony had exchanged it for his own at a fairly young age for two reasons: it had a window that opened wide enough to get through, and it was the farthest from the master suite. Even as the smallest back bedroom, it still had its own ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet so it wasn’t as if he’d exactly been slumming it. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, not sure what he was going to find. 

But it was all exactly the same, a time capsule, locked up and ignored for six years. He’d left it messy on purpose, knowing that cleaning up would cue them to his escape sooner. His books from boarding school were still scattered over his desk, under a pile of gears and circuit boards. Most of his clothes were still in the closet - he’d only taken when he could carry, after all. 

Tony walked around the room, running his finger through the dust on the bookshelf. He’d left during spring break. His parents had been surprised when he wanted to come home for break, but he wanted to be back in California - he had thought he wanted to be back in California. He’d lasted two months on his own in L.A. before he’d decided to go back to the east coast. The academy had run out its usefulness for him in terms of classes, but one of his teachers there had ended up being the connection he needed to get into MIT on his own at 15. He hadn’t been able to actually submit any of his courses until he was 18, but he finished them all, and two master’s theses, then submitted everything all at once and graduated three times over in the spring of his 18th birthday. He’d had a lot of awed professors on his side, done a lot of co-writing on papers he could never have credit for, to manage it all. They’d recognized brilliance and he’d shared it with them in exchange for a way to game the system.

And now here he was, six years later, several degrees under his belt, and he was right back where he started, taking over SI, alone, living in his parent’s house. Sure, he had money this time around, money that was apparently all his now, and Howard couldn't raise a fist to him again, but he’d run in a clear circle around the country, trying to avoid the only future he didn’t want - willing to suck off assholes in the backs of limos to avoid the only future he didn’t want - and it had caught up to him anyway.

Jarvis had set Tony’s bags in one of the large, fancy guest rooms, but Tony dragged them down the hall to his room. He’d made it an oasis back then, it would have to be once more. 

The next four days went by in a haze of funeral preparations and lawyers meetings. Jarvis tried to encourage Tony to get the house up and running again properly, but instead he dismissed all the staff with a year of pay, except for Jarvis, who hardly worked at that point anyway, and a cleaning service that would come twice a week and do everything except Tony’s room. Tony was used to feeding himself and cleaning up after himself - or rather, failing to clean up after himself - and he didn’t want that to change. Obie was by Tony’s side for every meeting with the lawyers, and every discussion of Tony’s parents’ wills, but beyond that he spent all of his time at SI “keeping things going” until Tony felt ready to step in.

He was never going to feel ready to step in.

But Tony had given himself a deadline - the funeral. When it was over, he had no choice. He had to take over SI, probably hire all that house staff back, and start living the life he was always meant to live. He could buy some flashy cars, date models, build a new house maybe, or knock down half the mansion and turn it into a workshop. It’s not like there’s weren’t upsides to coming into a multi-billion dollar inheritance. He could do it. He could enjoy it.

The morning of the funeral, Tony pulled on one of his dark suits from his escort days. It gave him a small jolt of manic glee to wear his hooker suit to his father’s funeral - a secret connection to his old life that this death was forcing him to leave behind.

There was a knock at the front door, but Tony had sent Jarvis down to the funeral home already, so he went to open it himself. He pulled the door open, expecting either press, or yet another flower delivery, and instead came face to face with his best friend - his only friend in the whole world. Now.

“Rhodey, oh my god.” Tony flung himself across the stoop and slammed into Rhodey, pulling him into a bear hug. 

Rhodey laughed, hugging him tightly back, then pulled back gazing up at the house. “Dude, you were holding out on me.”  

Tony kept a hand resting on Rhodey’s back, unable to pull away in case he turned out to be a mirage. “I told you they were rich, man.”

“Yeah, but... wow.”

Tony shoved Rhodey towards the door, and inside. Rhodey looked around the vast entrance hall, then turned back to Tony. “You alright?” He pulled him in for another hug, which Tony sunk into gratefully.

The urge to say “of course’ welled up inside Tony, but this was Rhodey - Rhodey who had been the only one Tony had trusted with his past, Rhodey who had let Tony crash on his couch for  _ years,  _ Rhodey who had called Tony when he’d seen the news about his parents on TV, and knew no one would know how to get in touch with Tony to tell him. “No. Not in the slightest. But I will be. I didn’t know you were coming.” Tony gave Rhodey’s shoulder another squeeze.

“Course I came. Managed to wrangle some time off, just a few days, but I wanted to be here for the funeral.”

“Thanks.”

Tony gave Rhodey the grand tour and it was a lot more fun leading someone that he actually liked around the house, than pottering through the rooms by himself, wondering what he was going to do with them besides letting them collect dust. Rhodey pointed out all the places Tony could pile his epic mountains of crap, and where he should hang his Black Sabbath posters. The smile Rhodey kept bringing to his face made him realize that he had barely smiled since -

Since the last happy night with Steve.

Rhodey must have seen the good mood slide off Tony’s face in an avalanche, because he was by his side in an instant. “Hey, man. It’ll be alright.”

“It’s not -” Tony hated to say, _ It’s not my parents’ death, it’s my love life. _ Even with his patchy history with his family that sounded awful, but the loss of his mom and dad was still weirdly distant and untouchable. He hadn’t seen them in six years, it didn’t feel weird that they weren’t here. It was numb and empty. But the loss of Steve was visceral and sharp, a jagged, scraping pain carving its way through his gut on endless repeat. 

He crumpled to the floor, face in his hands, and Rhodey sat down beside him. Tony poured it all out. Rhodey knew some of it - he knew about the escorting, at least vaguely - but Tony had never laid out the whole story in detail, and he had never talked about Steve. Probably because he knew the look Rhodey would give him, the twisted mouth and the raised eyebrows. The, “Really, Tony? You’re going to tell me it’s not a big deal? You’re in love with this guy,” he would inevitably get. But now, now when it was too late to do anything about it, he poured his heart out and let Rhodey catch it. 

The story wasn’t linear, or really coherent, at all, but Rhodey made sympathetic noises and sighed and groaned and smacked his hands over his ears in all the right places. And if at the end Tony’s eyes were a little red and his cheeks were a little damp, Rhodey kindly didn’t notice. Instead, he patted Tony on the back and said, “Dude.”

“I know.”

“Look, I can’t pretend I understand all of this, but I don’t see why you just left. It sounds to me like he’s mad in love with you. I don’t get why he would be upset that you hid who you are.”

Tony sighed. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I know he wouldn’t care, or if he did, he’d forgive me. I mean, I was having sex for money, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even think I was using my real first name.”

“Yeah, that probably would have been smart.” Rhodey shot him a look.

_ “Anyway,  _ that’s not it. I think he’d say yes, he’d want to be together, but then… You don’t know what this is like, what it was like growing up in this. I - I have a legacy to live up to. It’ll tear him apart. He’s a vet, Rhodey, he runs a charity for vets. My company makes weapons. It’s not - and the press. They’d rip him apart. He thinks he hates crowds now, wait til he’s pushing through one just trying to get to -” Tony took a slow breath. “I can’t.”

“I know it seems impossible now, Tony, but you’re not your father, and you don’t have to do everything the way he did. We don’t have to talk about it, right now. But later, when things have settled down a bit, you should think about calling him. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ve already lost him, right?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather lose him now and have all good memories, than ruin his life and watch him come to hate me, resent me. This is better.”

“Just think about it. Later.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Rhodey. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Rhodey repeated.

They sat in silence for a long time, then Tony hauled himself to his feet, and Rhodey followed. The funeral went by in a weird blur of intense fuzziness punctuated by moments of sharp, heavy emotion. His parents’ friends gave eulogies and so did Obie and Jarvis. They’d asked him to as well, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so he declined. He was hardly present all through Obie and Jarvis’ speeches, then a friend of his mother’s from some local committee for the preservation of historical knick-knacks or some shit took the podium and told some inane story about Maria saving a charity dance by running out at the last minute and buying an entire auditorium’s-worth of flowers from roadside stands. It was a stupid story, but with it came an intense sense memory of his mother seated at her piano, playing a sad, sweet lullaby and singing softly to herself. It was like a school bus full of painful emotion had crashed into the church and t-boned Tony’s chest. He sad, tense and shaking, trying to hold it in, until the service was over and he was able to stand and shake it off. 

He stood at their graveside for a long time after everyone else had left. It was a family plot, the rest of the Starks laid out nearby, and Tony supposed that, someday, he’d lie beside them. Jarvis, Rhodey, and Obie waited by the road, giving Tony a few last minutes with his parents - and he had no idea what to say, what to think, what to feel.

He was angry - angry that they hadn’t had a chance to fix this, angry at himself for even thinking that because he had never had any desire to fix it until they were dead. He was scared - scared that everything had been uprooted, and he’d been flung back into this life, shoved in a Howard shaped hole he’d never intended to fill - and then angry again for that, all over again. And guilty. Because maybe if he’d never left home, it wouldn’t have gone like this. He’d be unhappy, sure, but apparently he was destined to be unhappy anyway, so he could have skipped the few good years he had - no Rhodey, no degrees, no… no Steve - and maybe his parents would be alive.

“I have no idea if I owe you all that or not,” he said out loud. The cool, grey headstones offered no wisdom in return. “Okay, how about this. I forgive you. No point in holding a grudge now. Neither of you were very good at being a parent, but I guess I didn’t turn out all bad - and I’m here after all - so thank you for that and, yeah. I forgive you. Or, if I don’t yet, I will.”

Tony stood and stared at nothing for a long time, then turned and walked back to the car, slipping on his sunglasses as he left the side-by-side graves behind.  

Rhodey had to fly out the next morning. They didn’t say much, just hugged then smacked each other on the back with a significant look. Rhodey not-so-subtly reminded him that Tony had his number, and Tony made a vow to himself to call more. It had been hard to call much, in New York, when he knew the only things he had to talk about were things he wasn’t proud of or were too hard to face by saying out loud. But it didn’t matter. It was Rhodey. It would just be good to hear his voice, no matter what. He waved the car off then went back inside. 

The morning after the funeral, Tony called and ordered several new suits brought over. He put his two tuxes and two dark suits in the back of the closet in his room, and bought everything the tailor brought over with an imperious sweep of his hand. After they were gone, he dressed in the first one he put his hand on and his darkest sunglasses, slicked his hair back, and headed for his father’s garage. 

Technically, he only had his learner's permit - he’d had no car to practice with in New York - but he didn’t give a shit. If they pulled him over he’d give name dropping a go for the first time in his life, besides, driving was just physics. He wailed into the spot at the front of the building marked “Reserved for Howard Stark” and charged through the front doors like he owned the place. Which, he supposed, he did.

His first stop was Obie’s office. He collapsed into the chair opposite the sleek, modern desk. “Good morning, my boy!” Obie boomed. He came around to perch on the edge of his desk and gave Tony a piercing look. “You sure you’re ready for this? I can handle things if you need more time.”

Tony waved off his concern. “I’m fine, Obie. I’d rather be busy, honestly.”

Obie considered this for a moment, then seemed to accept it. He nodded. “Alright. Well, you’ll need a staff, and to sort out the scope of what you want to do here. Your father spent most of his time in R&D, recently. Seems to me you’ve got a similar knack for invention, so why don’t you head on down and see what they’re up to. Oh, and pick an office! Don’t worry if it takes a while to get settled, Tony. The company’s in good shape, it’ll truck on while you get your bearings.”

There was something cutting under Obie’s words, but Tony couldn’t quite get a handle on it. He shot him a salute and wandered out, at first intending to go down to R&D as Obie had suggested, but instead, he went past the bank of elevators and around the corner to the rest of the executive offices.

“Howard Stark” the door still said. Tony walked in.

It was everything of his dad that the house wasn’t. The house was his mom, his childhood, a snapshot of a family held together with scotch  tape and reputation. But this was who his father had been. One wall was a long bank of bookcases filled with huge, leather-bound volumes. Unlike the books in other fancy offices, these were all well-worn and cracked. Pages of notes and bookmarks sticking out of most of them. There were stacks of paper everywhere, models, structures, notebooks. Some of the ice inside Tony’s chest thawed a little. Howard had been a terrible father, but Tony had to admit, he’d had an incredible mind. 

The next several hours were lost to pouring over Howard’s notes. Tony could see the progression, the vast variation in projects Howard had pursued, then the narrowing as the company grew, as weapons manufacturing became the thing he was contracted for the most. 

Howard’s computer was gone, so when Tony had made it through his father’s stack of notebooks, he slipped down to the rows of cubicles in the Accounting department and snagged an empty desk. Apparently, this was “Chad’s” workstation, and Chad was not in today. Tony cracked his passwords easily, and dove in, pushing past the permissions restrictions placed on the computer with ease. Tony scrolled through document after document, getting more and more frustrated the more confusingly bureaucratic it was - and the more it didn’t seem to add up.

He stared at an F72A form and frowned, growling a little under his breath in frustration.

“Oh, you’ll need the F72B as well if you want to make heads or tails of that,” someone said. Tony looked up and met the eyes of a pretty young woman with freckles and flaming red hair, in a black suit and terrifying heels. Her desk was connected to Chad’s and she’d shuffled her chair over to watch him. She smiled shyly at him, and he smiled back.

“You get this?”

“Yes, of course. It’s my job. Or rather, it’s not my job, but knowing it makes my job easier and so even if it’s a little out of my scope I still find that the - uh -” The woman trailed off, and Tony realized he was staring. 

“Tony Stark.” He stuck out his hand.

She smiled again. “Um, I know. Pepper - Virginia Potts.” 

“Pepper?” He cocked an eyebrow.

She blushed prettily. “It’s a nickname.”

“Well, Miss Pepper Potts - it is ‘Miss’ right? I don’t see a ring but I wouldn’t want to offend your seven foot tall, linebacker husband.”

Pepper had the distinct look of someone who was amused but trying not to be. That was new for Tony. At this point he usually got either eye rolling or heavy sighing. “No, there’s no linebacker,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Okay good. I mean, not good for the linebackers of the world, they are clearly missing out, but good for me. I am having a bit of a dilemma, and I think you can help me.”

“Oh?” It was her turn to cock an eyebrow.

“Yeah, see I’m trying to - uh - run an entire company and I have, basically, no idea what I’m doing whatsoever.”

She laughed. “No idea?”

“Nope. None. I mean, R&D, I get that stuff and I know that’s where Obie wants me, but first, I feel like I need to have a grip on, you know -” he gestured at the screen in front of him “- all this.”

Pepper gave him a considering look. “Why is it good for you that I’m not married?”

Tony’s lips twitched. He liked her, she wasn’t the type to put up with any bullshit. “Because I’m about to offer you a job that’s going to leave you little time for anyone else.”

“Mr. Stark…”

“Yes, Miss Potts?”

“I won’t date my boss,” she said pointedly, though still amused. If she thought he was hitting on her, he clearly wasn’t doing it very effectively.

Tony laughed. “Ah, no, you don’t have to worry about that. My type is more -”  _ tall, blonde and blue-eyed,  _ his brain helpfully supplied. He told it to shut up. “- dude-shaped. But I’m deeply offended that I’m not beautiful enough that you’d break your rule after one look at all this.” He gestured at himself, and Pepper laughed.

They grinned at each other for a moment. “You said something about a job?” she asked.

“Ah, yes. I need a PA, or really, more like a - um - adviser to the king. Asap. Like, yesterday would be good.”

Her smile vanished. She took on the look of a very pretty, ginger deer in headlights. “Oh gosh, no, Mr. Stark. I don’t have the kind of experience for that sort of thing. I mean, I have a degree in business, but I’m really just here as a part-time intern and I don’t think -”

Tony held up a finger, and she fell silent. “I’m rich, apparently, and just getting used to that, but I understand it means I get to be eccentric instead of crazy. I want you, no one else will do. You up for it? Yes? Good?”

Pepper spluttered at him for a moment, her eyes flickering between him and the screen of documents he was trying to understand. “I - I guess… okay… I’ll have to learn a lot of things on the job, but… alright?”

“Perfect, amazing. Call HR and - uh - hire… yourself.. Or however that works. And a team, you need a team. Open budget, Miss Potts, make it happen. My eyes are starting to do that spinny thing so I’m going to go downstairs and play with gadgets for a while, but let’s meet tomorrow morning and make a game plan.” He stood, and she stood with him. She was grinning but kept reeling it back as if someone had once told her to look more demure, or hide her emotions. Tony liked her smile; he wanted to see it more. 

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” she asked, vibrating with intention.

Tony grinned. “That will be all, Miss Potts.”

Pepper marched out of the room, immediately drawing her phone to her ear and barking out orders, and for the first time since he’d walked in the building, Tony felt like he might actually be able to do this.

Tony went down to R&D and got lost in tech, and, before he knew it, the people around him were packing up and going home. Tony had no reason to go home, nothing waiting for him there, so he stayed until late, going over and over all the projects that SI had - and had not - greenlighted in the last two years. 

He popped home to catch a few hours of sleep and shove a frozen waffle in his mouth, missing Jarvis who had gone to bed hours ago, quite rightly. The next morning, when he arrived, Pepper Potts was in the office he’d eventually chosen mostly at random, with a clipboard and a determined look.

They spent the first half of the day with her explaining everything she understood to him, and the second half of the day compiling a list of everything neither of them understood. The most confusing part was the large stack of contracts SI had rejected. Neither Tony nor Pepper could figure out the criteria being used to make those decisions, but they plugged away, working on what could only really be considered a mass-scale audit of the entire company, figuring it out as they went. They both felt an unspoken, unacknowledged, but very present need to keep what they were doing quiet. They’d already turned up a couple of minor shady things going on, and Pepper had a neat list in her notebook of people they were going to have conversations with, once they were done.

Tony found that, as hard as it was, it was actually pretty satisfying. He’d always been an incredibly fast learner, and even though bureaucracy wasn't his forte, everything was starting to become clear.

The other nice thing about the arrangement was Pepper. She and Tony instantly became fast friends, bonding over coffee choice and late nights at the office. When everyone else had gone home, and Pepper’s weaponized stilettos came off, they would talk. Tony found that Pepper was one of those people you spill your guts to, and spill he did. Over the course of the next two weeks, Tony told her everything, and he had no doubts that she would keep his secrets. She even had one of two of her own to share. It was the first time since Rhodey that Tony had made a real friend, and he found himself clinging to it perhaps a little more than was healthy. Pepper didn’t seem to mind, clinging right back.

For everything else, he would fake it til he made it, he supposed.

Over the next two weeks, Tony managed it. He wore expensive clothes and ordered expensive drinks and smiled at the camera. He flirted with pretty women at parties and gave them a ride home in his expensive cars. If he never accepted an invitation in from any of them, well that was no one’s business but his. 

  
And at night, when he crawled into his king-sized bed with three billion thread count cotton sheets and wrapped his hand around himself, he could almost - almost - convince himself that the soft voice whispering,  _ “please,” _ and the bright blue eyes that filled his imagination didn’t belong to anyone in particular.


	5. Chapter Five

Tony was barely an inch into their massive audit when Obie called him to his office and said, “How’d you like a visit back to New York, Tony?”

Tony froze. The last thing he wanted was a visit to New York. He’d left New York behind, his life was here now. “Why?”

“I set up some investor meetings - bigwigs and politicians who can push our contracts forward, that kind of thing. But I think you should go. Let everyone see the fresh new face of SI out there making things happen. It’ll be good for the company. You up for it, kid?”

Honestly, if there was anything Tony was good for in this company, it was his ability to wine and dine stuffy old men. And this time he didn’t even have to suck them off after. Obie had shown no interest in his inventions, or his research, and SI’s contracts explicitly seemed to reject the kinds of things Tony designed. So, it seemed, this would be his life more than anything. Tony nodded. “Sure.”

**

Tony snapped the cufflinks in place and frowned. He looked up at his reflection in the hotel room mirror. It felt like yesterday and forever ago at the same time that he was doing this for Steve, convincing him that Tony was worth it. Now, now he wasn’t sure if he’d do the same if given the chance. He’d turn and walk out at the first sign of those ice blue eyes, pinched with worry at the edges. Save them both the heartbreak.

And yet… he wouldn’t want to give up the memories. He let his eyes fall shut and there was Steve, curled up in his bed, fast asleep, the sheets pooling over his hips. When he opened them again the man looking back at him from the mirror wasn’t him. It was a show. Charming investors wasn’t any different from charming clients as an escort. It was all about finding out what they wanted, giving them a little less than that, and leaving them wanting more. It was weird being in New York again, but Obie had insisted that wining and dining these guys was worth the flight - and it was important that they saw the new face of SI transitioning smoothly. Tony needed to step up into the hole his father had left before anyone had time to notice that something was missing. 

It was actually weird to think that Howard had been here in the city so often, so nearby and Tony had never known. Quite a bit of SI business was done here, it seemed. When he was a kid, it was all about California. Now, SI had tendrils all over the globe. He wondered if his parents would have even recognized him if they’d bumped into each other at a restaurant, him on the arm of some too-rich-for-his-own-good asshole, batting his eyelashes and handing out blowjobs in the bathroom. Tony realized with a start that now he was the kind of person who did the hiring. He should have got an escort from Heroes for the night. He barked out a strained laugh. Talk about coming full circle.

But the thought of being with anyone else, even being beside anyone else, made his stomach churn. The only person he wanted there was Steve, and the only person he couldn’t bear to put there was Steve. 

His phone chimed, reminding him to get his ass in gear, and Tony hustled out of the hotel. The restaurant they were meeting at was across the street, Michael’s - a popular place for business dinners, and, worryingly, one he’d been to a lot as an escort. Obie had arranged the meeting, however, and by the time Tony had seen where it was, it was too late to change it.

Nerves settled low in Tony’s stomach as he entered the restaurant, but he squashed them down and pasted on his most charming smile. He met his contacts and he dove into business. More than half of the conversation went over Tony’s head, but he smiled and nodded and typed it ferociously into his phone so he could call Pepper from the bathroom and get her to explain it all. 

At a break between courses, Tony excused himself to do just that, following the winding hallway to the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant. 

“Tony?” 

Tony stopped and turned towards the voice, then recoiled, his lip curling into a sneer of its own account. “Ty.” He kept his voice carefully flat and even. He hadn’t seen his client in months, but as soon as he saw him, Tony remembered that Ty’s business owned the building next door, and he and his dickwad co-workers came here to drink most nights after work. Ty was an asshole, and he had an intense temper. Tony wasn’t afraid of him, but he had no desire to start a scene in the middle of a restaurant, especially one that would likely end in being outed to his investors that he used to work in a profession even older than war profiteering.

Ty grinned, sharp and predatory, like a shark. He advanced on Tony, using the couple of inches he had on him to loom aggressively. “Well, well. I was wondering what happened to you. I noticed you suddenly disappeared from Heroes. Got yourself a sugar daddy, finally? Some old rich bastard who can’t even get it up? How does he feel knowing you used to get fucked til you screamed?”

“Ty, come on. Leave it,” Tony ground out.

“Aww, come on. Don’t you miss me, baby?” Ty’s hand circled Tony’s bicep. He tried to wriggle free without fighting too hard, but Ty’s fingers only tightened. Tony took an unsteady step back, his heart kicking into overdrive when the movement trapped him between a bussing cart and Ty’s body.

Ty’s other hand brushed over Tony’s hair, then down his jaw and along his lower lip. Then it dropped to his hip and dug in. Hard. “I’ve got an idea. You deserve a break from whatever impotent asshole finally bought your filthy little throat. Blow me in the bathroom and next time you jack off your geriatric keeper you can taste me on your tongue and actually have a shot at getting off yourself. What do you say?”

Tony took a deep, slow breath, calming his racing heart. He’d never been afraid of Ty - Tony might be smaller, but his engineering projects were more physical than people thought and he was pretty sure he could take him - but the intensity of his looming presence was kicking Tony’s fight and then flight drive to the forefront of his mind. If he were still working as an escort, Tony would have kneed the motherfucker in the balls and booked it out of there, but this was his first time out representing the company and the last thing he wanted was to make a scene.

He blinked up at Ty, relaxing into his grip then taking a few steps forward. Ty, apparently thinking that Tony was agreeing and on his way to the bathroom - let himself be moved, the hand on Tony’s hip dropping away, but the one on his arm staying vice-locked around his bicep. Tony opened his mouth to tell Ty, very calmly and nicely, to fuck off but he was cut off.  

“Tony?” Came a shocked voice behind him and -  _ fuck  _ \- he knew that voice. Steve.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony hissed under his breath. “It’s like an episode of ‘This is Your Skanky Life.’” Tony turned, and there he was, beautiful as always. Tony tried to keep his expression from collapsing, struggled to stop himself from diving into Steve’s arms. Steve’s eyes glided over Tony, a flicker of something pained in his eyes, then his expression snapped closed, iced over. He frowned at Ty.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, cool, sharp. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Ty ground out, and Tony glared at him. 

“Nothing is going on. Ty was just leaving.”

“Is this him?” Ty asked, pointing his thumb at Steve and looking at Tony. “Huh. Not what I expected.”

“No.” Tony’s flashed Ty a dark look and twisted his arm out of his grip. His desire to prevent a scene was steamrolled by Steve’s appearance, completely overridden by the need to get the fuck out of here. “Ty. Fuck. Off. I’m not going to blow you in the bathroom. There is no amount of listerine on the goddamn planet that could erase that memory from my mouth or my mind. You know, I actually happen to like sucking people off, but if there’s one thing that could ruin that for me it would be gagging on your pencil dick again. So fuck off.” Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on his face. “Thank you.”

“Asshole,” Ty spat. He flicked his eyes over to Steve once, as if deciding if it was worth taking on both of them, then turned and marched off down the hall. 

Tony watched his back retreat, sensing Steve was still behind him but too cowardly to turn and face him. He heard a noise and his veins flooded with panic, suddenly more afraid that Steve would leave without saying anything else, than having to speak to him. “Steve.” He turned.

Steve’s mouth was twisted unpleasantly, shoulders tight and hunched up. He took a slow, shaky breath. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Ty’s a dick, but he’s not a real threat.”

Steve glared over Tony’s shoulder at the doorway Ty had disappeared through. Tony watched him through his glasses, glad Steve couldn’t see the way his body was raging on the inside, begging Tony to close the few feet between them. 

“Sorry if I… interrupted something,” Steve ground out, not sounding sorry at all.

“What? No. God no, I’m not here with him.”

Steve’s eyes finally snapped to Tony’s face, and Tony found the glasses did nothing, he was naked and armourless under that gaze. “Well you’d better get back to whoever you are here with,” Steve snapped out.

Steve didn’t know. How could - Steve hadn’t figured out who Tony was. He thought Tony had - what? Come back to the city and ghosted on him completely? That he was still working, but had cut Steve off? Why would he -? “What? No, I’m not -” But Steve was already turning on his heel, marching off back towards the dining room. Tony stumbled after him, but as soon as he broke free of the hallway, the clatter and chatter of the dining room assaulted him and Tony screeched to a halt. In the moment of panic - and his investors only a few tables away - Tony lost his chance. Steve disappeared into the crowd, and one of Tony’s party caught his eye and beckoned him over.

Tony pulled his glasses back off and shook his head, knocking loose all the cobwebs of his former life that had settled around him tonight. He needed to finish this meeting, then fly back to California, and never ever come to New York again.

When the meeting was over, Tony staggered back up to his hotel room and decimated the mini bar. Fuck it, he was rich now, who cared. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Steve giving him that cool, detached look, judging, hating. It ripped him up inside. So he downed shot after shot, hoping he would pass out before the memory made him either throw up or break down crying. Steve thought he was still escorting. Steve thought Tony had just disappeared one day, for no reason at all. Steve had every right to be pissed, but the knowledge that he was in the world hating Tony was sitting acidic and heavy in Tony’s stomach.

After clearing out the top shelf, and knocking back several “fun size” Snickers bars, Tony couldn’t stand to stare at the ugly floral wallpaper in his room anymore and staggered out into the elevator. He was stunned to find a cab that would take his fare, and gave him the address for The Church on complete autopilot. When he stumbled out in front of the big, wooden doors, he had to at least be grateful that he hadn’t given the driver Steve’s address. That would - that would be bad. 

Tony had long ago changed the big metal key for a numbered keypad, and he saw with no surprise that Dr. Cho hadn’t bothered removing it yet. She was probably going to try and sell the place, since no one but Tony would ever want to rent it. It took him three tries, the numbers blurring together in front of him, but he managed to get his code in and push inside. 

He’d asked for his things to be packed up, and they had been. The pews were still up against the wall, but other than that it looked like a church again, dusty and unused, but not his home anymore. It reminded him of when he first came to see the place, young and excited, and high on MIT. Rhodey had been sad to kick him out, but Tony was finally a legal adult - he could get a job, he could work on his inventions, he could rent his own place - he could do whatever he wanted. But it hadn’t really gone that way. No one wanted to to hire an 18-year-old as an engineer and no one believed that his degrees were real. Even if they did, they cited a lack of experience, when Tony really knew it was a lack of bravery. Nobody gave him time to show what he could do. No one except Dr. Cho. He’d met her at a conference in Boston while he was finishing up his PhD, and she had loved his work so much, she’d been the first person he’d gone to when he moved here.

She hadn’t been able to give him a job, but she’d given him a place to stay, and a place to trial his inventions while he worked on his next thesis. That was all over now, though. He could still build, he supposed, but not robotic limbs. Weapons. Tony walked down the empty aisle and up to the altar. There was a dark square on the floor where his mattress had blocked the sun for so many years, the wood around it fading faster. 

Alphonse, Twitch, and Nick looked serenely down at him from the windows. “What the fuck do you know?” Tony mumbled at them. He sat down hard on the floor where his bed used to be and stared up at the coloured glass. It was dark outside, but the light from a street lamp scattered through the painted glass and danced on the floor. He remembered how Steve had looked, bathed in that light, smiling down at him.

How had he let himself fall so deeply into it? He knew, he knew all along that it was fleeting, that it couldn’t last, that it wasn’t real, but he had tipped in headfirst anyway. He should have said no to Wanda’s party, he should never have invited Steve over to his place, he shouldn't have met his friends, or  _ fuck  _ even said yes again after the first time they had slept together.

But he never saw it ending this way. He had seen it ending - of course - it was always doomed to end. But he never thought he would be the one to have to walk away. He had seen Steve getting bored, getting frustrated, meeting someone else, running out of money. He had seen Steve’s alerts on his phone becoming few and far between before disappearing altogether. He had seen bumping into him at a restaurant someday, Steve flushed and smiling with a ring on his finger and someone real on his arm. And he would have smiled and congratulated him and broken inside. But Steve would be happy.

Not like this. Not with Steve out there hating him. What had he thought of the money Tony had left? Why hadn’t he left a note, or explained? Fuck. He figured it would all be immediately clear, that Steve would see him on the news and realize that he had been paying the richest heir in America to fuck him on a regular basis and understand why Tony could never see him again. 

Though, if he was really honest with himself, he knew that’s not what Steve was paying him to do. He’d paid Tony to be his boyfriend, and that could never end well. It was all so fucked up. Tony’s stomach rolled. It had been a long time since he drank this much. His clients loved to think they were getting him drunk, and Tony was good at playing the part, but he was ruthlessly careful about how much he actually consumed. He was really feeling it this time, though.

Tony staggered to his feet and explored the rest of The Church, heart clenching at every piece of carved wood and each scuff in the floor from his long work tables. Sure, his life here had been fucked up, and really, not much of a life, but it had been his and he missed it. It was lonely but free. And since he’d met Steve, it hadn’t even really been that lonely. Tony remembered the crowd of teenagers at Wanda’s party, swarming over the robots and peppering him with questions. Why couldn’t he have that back?

In a fit of painful self-loathing, Tony pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and fumbled out the half-strip of photobooth pictures. He tossed them on the floor in front of him and stared. He should leave them here, leave this life behind entirely. But he didn’t feel like he could get closure until he explained himself to Steve. Tony picked up his phone in a haze and managed to open the browser. He had to talk to him. It needed to end, but he couldn’t let it end like this. 

He didn’t have Steve’s number, and didn’t know how to get it, but his booze-addled mind remembered Bucky mentioning that he’d been getting spam phone calls ever since he’d listed his number as a contact for a media unit he was selling on craigslist. Tony struggled to type, but even drunk had no trouble digging up the old ad. It rang a few times before he picked up.

“What?”

Tony swallowed, trying to force his tongue to shrink back to a normal size. “Bucky,” he slurred. “I need Steve. Can you - can you give him - me. Give me his number?”

Bucky sighed. “Tony? Seriously? I’m not going to give you his number. You used him for cash for months then bailed without so much as a goodbye. I don’t know what’s up with you, or why you just disappeared, but Steve doesn’t need that shit in his life.”

“No… I’m sorry. It’s not… I have to tell him. Bucky, I have to tell him I love him and I did this all wrong and I fucked up today at Michael’s. Please… I have to…” Tony snapped his mouth shut. That had not been what he intended to say. Fuck. 

“Dude you are sloshed. And I don’t even want to know who Michael is. But you have to stop leaning on Steve. He’s got enough going on without being swindled by you.” Despite his harsh words, Bucky’s voice had softened somewhat. “Tony, come on. I like you. I always liked you. But you gotta let this go. Go to bed. Sleep it off.”

“Bucky…”

“Bye.” Bucky hung up, and Tony felt his evening roil around unpleasantly in his stomach again. Fuck… He tucked the photos carefully back in his wallet. 

Tony seriously considered telling the cab driver who picked him up to take him to Steve’s but Bucky’s words echoed through his mind.  _ Steve doesn't need that shit in his life.  _ He gave the address for the hotel and barrelled back up to his room.

Tony woke up in a puddle of spit on the hotel room floor, still in his suit. He took in the piles of empty bottles with a sneer.  _ Classy, Stark.  _ At least he was finally following in his father’s footsteps like everyone wanted him to. The phone in his hand reminded him of the phone call he’d made last night and Tony groaned and tipped his head back to the floor. Maybe he could just stay here on the carpet for the rest of forever and not have to face any of this ever again.

When the carpet failed to absorb him, Tony eventually dragged himself to the shower. Clean and in fresh clothes, he put on his darkest glasses and shuffled into the lobby. The name on his black card summoned the hotel manager unasked, who went on and on, hoping Tony had enjoyed his stay and effectively ruining any enjoyment he might have had. 

The plane ride flew by in a haze of self-loathing and hair of the dog. Tony was in full on tipsy wallow when he landed in L.A. Pepper met him at the airport with a list of things to sign a mile long, but Tony pushed them all away clambering into the town car and tipping his forehead down until it hit the leather seat.

“I fucked up, Pep.”

She patted him lightly on the top of his head. “What’d you do? Did something go wrong at the meeting?”

“Nah, that was fine, easy, like charming rich fish in a barrel full of Johnnie Walker. No, I fucked up my life.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Tony fell silent, the rocking of the car starting to make him feel a bit seasick - or hungover, he wasn’t sure - and Pepper didn’t push. They dropped her off first, at the office, so she could dive back into her audit, then the car continued on to the mansion. Tony wondered if he’d ever stop thinking about it as “his parent’s mansion” and start thinking about it as home. He doubted it. It was vast, empty, and full of horrible memories. There were some things he liked - his mom’s piano, a few pieces of art, the hot tub - but mostly he’d burn it all to the ground in some eccentric cathartic exercise if he didn’t think that would get him committed.

Those thoughts shouldn’t have brought him back to Steve, but  _ everything  _ brought him back to Steve these days. Bucky was right. That call had been a horrible moment of weakness and it was all for the best that he didn’t get through. Steve deserved better, he deserved real. Not some wayward hooker wafting through life with no goals and no connections, and not the fake, flash, snotty, rich kid business owner. Steve deserved something real, like Wanda’s party. That had been real. Tony’s hand automatically went to his wallet, then snapped back.

The press had been kind so far - Tony’s parents had just died after all - but it was only a matter of time. It’d be bad enough if they found out about Tony’s escort days, if they found out about Steve… Tony had covered his tracks well, he’d broken into the Heroes for Hire server and deleted every record of him working there. His bank account had been under a false name and was cleared out. If anyone looked, he’d been living at The Church, quietly doing his PhD research. There were just enough people there who knew his real name that he could justify his existence. 

But that was never perfect. There were clients who knew his face, cabbies who picked him up a lot and took him to different men’s houses, pictures from parties and events. If someone looked hard enough, they could find it. He could live through that, but the thought of his clients being outed - of Steve being outed. Steve hadn’t even wanted to admit to his friends that he liked men,  let alone have it exposed to the whole world that he hired a male prostitute on a regular basis.

The car wound its way up the drive, and stopped outside the house. Tony thanked him and stepped out, then screeched to a halt. At first, he thought he was hallucinating after all his musing in the car on the way over, but then the figure on the porch raised its head and looked at him and - fuck...

“Steve.”

Steve looked up from his phone, his face unreadable. “Hi, Tony.” He voice was tight, tense. Nervous? “You might want to look into getting some better security here. I told the guy at the gate that I was a friend of yours and he just let me in.”

The driver of the car dropped Tony’s bags politely by the door, then got back in and drove away quickly, perhaps sensing the tension between them and wanting to be out of it as soon as possible. “What are you doing here, how did you even -?”

Steve looked down and scuffed his foot in the dirt. “I took the redeye. Bucky. He - ah - he said you called. He also said your last name was Stark, and a few things I’d seen in the news recently clicked together.”

“How did he know?”

“Apparently… apparently, he’s always known. His doctor is Helen Cho. She’s got a recent picture of you up on the wall in her office.”

“Oh shit…” Tony’s mouth fell open. “Dr. Cho... she owns The Church. I - uh - worked with her for my thesis project in EE. Prosthetics and stuff. I didn’t even think… Bucky...” Tony gestured vaguely to his own left arm.

“Yeah…” Steve took a deep breath. “He said you called.”

“I did.”

“Bucky didn’t have your number - caller ID was blocked.” Tony stared down at his phone; Pepper must have done that. It was a good idea, really. “But it wasn’t too hard to find out where you lived. So - uh - I came here… and I’m realizing now how utterly crazy that was, but I had to talk to you and I couldn’t just wander every high-society party and restaurant in NYC and hope you’d show up again.”

Tony laughed humourlessly. “Yeah, that probably would have been a while. I’m pretty much stuck here.”

“Why did you call, Tony?” Steve shuffled where he sat on the stoop.

“I was drunk.” Tony swallowed hard. Steve was here, and so beautiful, and he just  _ wanted  _ so badly, but he couldn’t _ have. _ Tony’s fingers twitched against his thigh, failing to get the memo that they weren’t allowed to reach out and touch. “I’m sorry. I was drunk, and I wanted to apologize for the thing with Ty.”

He could feel Steve’s intense gaze on him, but he kept his eyes on the ground by his feet. If he looked up, he’d remember what those eyes looked liked falling to pieces under him, that mouth, opening into a desperate “o”, that hair bathed in dancing, coloured light from stained glass windows. He couldn’t see all that and still find the strength to say goodbye.

“Bucky, um - Bucky said that you said… that you said you loved me.”

Silence weighed heavily between them for a long time.

“It was just a job.” Each word had to rip and claw its way out of Tony’s throat. He finally raised his eyes to meet Steve’s trying to project  _ please let it go  _ with every fibre of his being. He didn’t want it to end like this. He needed memories of being wrapped in Steve’s arms to hold him together. He didn’t want to look at the broken, half-strip of photobooth pictures he kept in his wallet and remember this Steve. He wanted to remember the Steve that was - however briefly - his.

“It was not -” Steve surged to his feet and advanced, his physical presence truly intimidating for the first time as he loomed over Tony and swarmed into his space. “It was  _ not  _ just a job,” he hissed out. “You paid me back. If it had been just a job you wouldn’t have - Tony. Tell me why you paid me back. Why?”

Tony cast about for something - anything - the perfect lie. Some simple words that would send Steve turning away, heading back to his own life. But there was nothing but the neon-bright, glaring truth. He gave up. “It wasn’t just a job.” Steve’s hands clenched into fists, then relaxed. They twitched towards Tony but didn’t touch. “It stopped being a job when you first laughed at one of my stupid jokes. When you were so scared to bring me back to your place that night. When you finally told me what you wanted, when you loved my ridiculous apartment, Wanda’s party, when I told you my whole life had crumbled to dust and I had no one and you said, ‘you have me.’ It was never just a job. I’m so in love with you it makes every day nearly impossible to get through. And you  _ have  _ to go, Steve.”

Then, Steve did touch. Both hands shot out and grabbed handfuls of Tony’s clothing, he clung there, wide-eyed and burning. “No. Why? Tony… I love you too. Please…” His hands clenched and unclenched, drawing Tony towards him.

And  _ god  _ those words hurt so much, four punches right in his gut. What he wouldn’t have given to hear them before, even when he knew he shouldn’t, even though he knew - had always known - Steve felt that way. And now, now he had to take what he wanted most and shove it back in Steve’s face. Reject it. “They’ll rip you apart.” He snapped out. “They’ll take your life and tear it down and grind you into the dirt until everything that made you you is gone. I can’t ask you to live this life, Steve. I can’t.”

“Tony…”

“No. I can’t.” He backed out of reach, Steve’s hands falling limply to his sides. “I won’t do it - I won’t put someone else through what my mother went through, what I went through. I have to - there are things I have to do here, Steve. My life in New York is over, and that includes you. I can’t. Please go.”

Tony started to push past Steve, but he reached out and caught Tony’s upper arm. “Wait. Please, let me - can we talk about this? Tony, please.”

“Steve, god - I told you not to let me break your heart.  _ Fuck.” _ Tony ripped out of Steve’s grip and flew back into the house, leaving Steve alone in the front drive. The door swung shut with a bang, and Tony staggered back against it, letting it catch his weight and hold him on his feet. His breath shook out of his lungs in ragged gasps. Steve had come here.  _ Steve had come here.  _ For him. Because he wanted Tony… No one ever wanted Tony like that, that much. And it hurt, it hurt so much, it felt like something was being ripped out of his chest. 

In one moment, the pause between heartbeats, Tony changed his mind. 

He wanted Steve, he didn’t care how. They’d make it work. He’d move to New York, or Steve would move here, or they’d do long distance, or  _ something.  _ But he couldn’t feel love like this - real love - and let it slip away. He wasn’t his father, it didn’t have to be like that.  _ It didn’t.  _ They’d been happy before, and that hadn’t even been real, but Tony could do real, he could.

He shoved back out through the door, reaching for the place where Steve had been, but he was gone, halfway down the driveway already, headed for the street. His shoulders were hunched unpleasantly, his face tipped down towards the ground. Tony jogged out into the driveway after him. “Ste-!”

Something collided with Tony’s back, knocking the word out of his mouth and the breath out of his lungs.


	6. Chapter Six

Tony hit the pavement hard, scraping his palms on the gravel and smacking his jaw painfully. A heavy weight landed on his back, and he struggled as it took shape - a knee, pressed between his shoulder blades. Tony fought it, arching up, trying to throw the heavy weight off, trying to scream, but he couldn’t find his strength and his lungs were convulsing, refusing to draw breath.

Two hands wrenched his arms behind his back and something tight wrapped around his wrists, locking them there. He was pulled to his feet, sucking desperately at the air and not getting enough, then shoved in the back of a waiting van. The door slammed shut, and everything was dark.

It was long moment before Tony found his breath again, his lungs finally relaxing and allowing him to breathe in fully. He sucked in oxygen as the van rumbled to a start and bounced away, down the road. He blinked in the darkness as his eyes adjusted to the change. He was in the back of a box van, dumped unceremoniously on the bare floor. All the windows were blacked out, including the grating that led to the front seat. The van rocked and swayed but he couldn’t tell how far they were travelling or which way they were turning. 

After about half an hour, the van pulled to a halt. Tony’s hands were still tied behind his back, but he braced himself for a fight anyway. If he came out flying as soon as they opened the door, he had a shot at getting away and running. It was probably his only shot so he had to make it count. He scrambled to his feet and pressed up against the double doors, locking his feet like a sprinter, ready to fly out and bolt.

There was shuffling and rustling, and the doors sprung open. And Tony sprung into action. He flew forward, ramming his shoulder into the man who had opened the door. He scrambled to his feet, ready to run, but two more men grabbed him roughly and slammed him back down on the ground.

“Little shit,” the one he’d hit ground out, clipping Tony’s side with the toe of his boot.

Tony looked up and his heart sank. There were  _ five  _ of them. He would have been lucky to take out one, and that was with surprise and momentum on his side. Five... five was fucking hopeless. Two of the men grabbed his shoulders and half-hauled him to his feet, pulling him low to the ground so they dragged instead of letting him get his legs under him. He squirmed but they each had several inches and many pounds on him and didn’t seem to have the slightest trouble carting him off.

Tony switched to putting his energy into scouting the location instead of fighting. It was blazingly sunny out, and Tony pondered the bizarreness of being kidnapped in the middle of the day. They were in a suburban neighbourhood, but it was devoid of cars and people. Many of the lawns were dug up and a few lots were empty, and it dawned on Tony that this was a new subdivision, still under construction. If some of the units had already sold, their occupants either weren’t in them, or were off at work for the day.

It was a pretty good hiding place. No one would question a cube van in a construction zone or scowling men in dark hoodies, and any of the unpurchased, half-finished homes were open season as hiding places. 

They dragged him up to one such house, and one of the men typed a code into the garage keypad, opening the door. They dragged Tony in, dumping him in the corner. The door closed behind them, and the men disappeared through the other door, into the house, leaving Tony alone in the empty garage. He heard the door lock with a click.

Well, fuck.

Tony squirmed around until he had his hands bound in front of him, instead of behind him. It wasn’t graceful, and for that he was glad they had left him alone. He could hear the murmur of voices, so he crossed the room and sat with his ear to the door. It was a thick door, but they were speaking loudly and their voices echoed in the empty house.

“That makes no sense!” One of the men said. “We have a job, we do it. Mr. Stane paid for us to do the ransom note, then kill the boy. If we kill him too soon, we can’t do the ransom picture.”

Tony’s heart stopped and all the air left his lungs in a rush. Mr. Stane? What did Obie have to do with this?

“It’s risky having him though. What if someone saw us? We should take the picture now, then kill the kid and get the fuck out of here. He’s already paid us. If the picture’s not good enough, I don’t really give a shit.”

“I have an idea,” said a third voice. “Mr. Stane paid us seven hundred thousand to take the kid and off him. But the ransom is for two million dollars. I know he wants to make it legit looking, but that means he has that kind of money, that people would expect him to be able to pay that much. So I say, we take the picture, we send the ransom, we kill the kid, and  _ then  _ we blackmail the fucker for another two million for us. We’ll send proof of our meeting to someone, unless he shuts us up. That’s what I think.”

They broke out into intense discussion over whether this was a good plan, worth the risk, or if they should just cut and run on what they had now. Inside the garage, Tony stared blankly at the wall opposite. Mr. Stane… they said it twice, but it, it wasn’t possible, was it? Why would Obie pay people to kidnap him, to kill him? Obie was like an uncle to him, nearly a replacement father. He’d been the one to reel Howard back when he went too far, the one to keep SI on its toes while Tony settled here in L.A. It wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t.

But - they’d been in his private driveway, in a dark van. Someone must have told the security guard to let them up. Steve - Steve had said that all he had to do was say he was a friend of Tony’s, maybe, maybe Obie told the guard to let anyone through that day. It certainly wasn’t the normal procedure.

But why? Why would Obie want Tony gone - dead. Why?

He sat there for a long time, rolling the question around in his mind and coming to no satisfactory conclusions. All he knew was that these men were going to try and kill him at some point; he needed to escape. The rest, he could figure out later. He stood up and walked carefully around the garage, taking in everything he could. The room was empty and the button for opening and closing the garage door was inside the house. That door was locked, and Tony didn’t know how to pick it, but the garage door opened by a key code and that meant electronics. Electronics, Tony could do.

They’d used zip ties to tie Tony’s wrists, and after trying to struggle out of them for far too long, he took a moment and cycled through all the information he had stored in his brain. He’d seen a video once, for how to escape being restrained with zip ties. He used his teeth to tighten them as much as he could, until the plastic dug into his skin, then brought his hands high above his head and slammed them down to his middle. The first time, it only resulted in him whacking himself painfully in the gut, but the second time they split. His wrists would be badly bruised, but he was free.

He figured he wouldn’t have much time so he tried to think quickly. He pulled out his wallet and flipped through it, forcing himself to skip over the section that had Steve’s picture in it. The mechanism for the outside keypad was probably too hard to get to, but the one for the inside was likely somewhere right near the door that led inside the house. There was a light switch on his side of the wall, so he used one of his credit cards to unscrew the panel cover and reveal the box within. He unscrewed the next layer of screws and pulled the whole box free from the wall. It hung on its cables, but Tony didn’t bother to disconnect them, what he wanted was behind. 

He had to break a few inches of drywall with his fingers, but with the hole from the switch box as a place it start, it wasn’t hard. To his delight he had been right - the box for the garage door switch inside the house was screwed to the same stud as the light switch had been and after a little bit of destruction, he could see the back of it.

He tried to work both quickly and quietly, but the panel gave him some trouble, and he ended up having to snap the plastic off, praying the kidnappers wouldn’t hear. When, after two heartbeats, they didn’t appear, Tony pulled the wires out of the back of the opener panel and inspected them. It would be easy enough - touch two wires together and it would think the button had been pressed and the door would open.

Tony hesitated. Ideally, he’d wait until the kidnappers were as far away as possible. He could still hear their voices murmuring down the hall and that meant they were close enough to hear the door open. Tony would only have a small head start, and they had the van. He had to run and get to someone who could help him before they caught him, and he had no idea where he was.

But the longer he waited, the closer he got to the time they’d decide that all the arguing was pointless, and they needed to take their pictures, or kill him, or whatever they settled on.

He hung there, wires in hand, until a noise in the hallway startled him into action. If they came into the garage, he was screwed. They’d see the damage right away. He took a few steadying breaths and prepared to run. 

One wire to the other and the door rumbled to life. Tony was off immediately. He dropped to the ground and rolled under the opening door the second it was a large enough gap to fit through. He heard yelling behind him, but he didn’t slow, he just ran, heading down the long street the way they had come, frantically searching for another person.

The shouting behind him got louder and closer, and Tony grunted in frustration, pushing himself to run faster. A light flashed ahead of him, and he yelled out, then screeched to a halt as three police cars came flying around the corner, red and blue lighting up the street. He turned and saw the kidnappers turn and bolt in the opposite direction, but he didn’t care because a voice called, “Tony!” and the whole world shrunk down to that sound.

Tony spun, and there was Steve, flying out of a police car before it even came to a complete stop and stumbling onto the pavement. He launched himself at Tony, and Tony fell into his arms gratefully, burying his face in Steve’s chest and clutching two handfuls of his shirt. They hung there, wrapped around each other, Tony struggling to find his breath again.

Pepper appeared beside them a moment later, and Tony pulled back from Steve long enough to lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were red and bright. “Tears for your poor, abducted boss?” he asked, the way he still clung to Steve belying the lightness in his tone.

Pepper grinned and snuffled. “I hate job hunting.”

Steve finally released Tony enough that he could lean back. Steve’s hands immediately danced all over him, eyes flickering down his body, searching for damage. “I’m okay,” he said, repeating it a few times until Steve settled. “How did you guys find me?”

“I saw the van,” Steve said. “I got the plate. It was peeling out of there too fast to just be a delivery. I went back up to make sure everything was okay, and Jarvis said you hadn’t come home. So we called the police. He said... Mr. Stane had told him your flight was delayed.”

“Tony,” Pepper said, exceedingly gently, and Tony tensed. “Tony… it was Mr. Stane. He - he hired the kidnappers.”

The weight that had threatened to crush him in the garage came back tenfold, and Tony crumpled in Steve’s arms. Steve’s firm hold didn’t let him hit the floor, but it was close. His stomach rolled, and Tony swallowed hard, holding back the nausea, and the hot tears that threatened the backs of his eyes. “How - ?”

“I’ve been trying to call you, but you must have left your phone in plane mode," Pepper said. "I finally found out why all those contracts were rejected. He was controlling things, making deals under the table. He was selling your father’s weapons, Tony. Selling them to the other side, on the black market. He made a ton of money he never reported, and your father never noticed, preferring to stay in his workshop and leave the business side to Obie. But then you came in, and hired me, and you wanted a full audit. It seems that Obie was hoping you wouldn’t show up to claim your fortune, and when you did, maybe that you would follow in your father’s footsteps and leave the business stuff to him… but when it became clear that you wouldn’t…”

Steve’s hands clenched too hard on Tony’s sides, but the pain grounded him. He took a few steadying breaths, pushing aside the steady stream of profanity that was threatening to writhe its way out of his gut. “Where -?”

“They arrested him. Jarvis called his office when he and Steve were looking for you, and I picked up. I explained what I had found, and so when they called the police, they sent half here, and half after Obie. The officer says they got him, but we both - we both wanted to come find you.”

“You found me,” Tony echoed, leaning over to pull Pepper into a hug.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. They took Tony’s statement, had an EMT look him over for injury, then sent him home. One of the officers took him and Steve back to the mansion, while Pepper volunteered to go back to the office and hold down the fort in the face of the CEO being arrested. 

Steve had been quiet through all of it, glued to Tony’s side and glaring extremely effectively if anyone tried to separate them but saying little. He pulled Tony close, in the back of the police car, an arm slung around his shoulders, and breathed into his hair, but it wasn’t until they were alone that he finally spoke. 

The officer took them to the mansion, double checked the security on the house, then left. Jarvis, apparently, was down at the station giving his own statement and updating Pepper. Tony flicked through his texts, waiting for the news to break, while Steve got him a bottle of water from the kitchen. Finally alone, they stood close by each other, Tony fiddling with the cap of the water bottle. The silence hung heavy between them.

“I was so worried -“ Steve started, but Tony cut him off.

“I went after you!” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I went after you. Before. After we talked. But then they grabbed me before I could catch you. But I did - I went after you.”

“Tony…” Steve took a step forward.

“I - I can’t remember what I was going to say. It’s all muddled, but I -” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled open the back section and took out the picture from Wanda’s party. “I took this. I needed to have it.”

“I know.” Steve’s hand closed over his. 

Tony stared up at him. He had questions, and things he needed to sort out, and - and things he needed to say. But the adrenaline was wearing off, and he was bone-deep exhausted. “Sorry, I know we need to talk, but I can’t… think straight.”

Steve cupped his face between his hands. “It’s fine - hey - don’t worry about that now. You need to rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Are you going to stay?” Tony’s voice didn’t sound like his own. It sounded like half his normal voice, weak and nearly broken.

“What do you want?” Steve whispered. It was a strange shift to hear his own words echoed back to him and in such a different context. No one ever asked him that. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“I want you to stay.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

Steve let Tony lead him up to his bedroom, waited until he had undressed, then tucked him in. He dumped his own clothes on the floor, leaving him in nothing but boxers, and crawled in on the other side. Steve gathered Tony up in his arms and pulled him close to his chest. Tony pressed his cheek to Steve’s warm skin and failed to resist the urge to run a finger over his stomach. Heat threatened the back of his eyes but he held it off, pushing all thoughts of his mom, his dad, and Obie out of his mind and focusing only on the rise and fall of the solid chest under him.

Tony woke suddenly, a jolt of panic shooting through his core until he registered where he was. Steve was still there, deeply asleep beside him. Tony smiled down at him fondly; he could sleep through anything. Tony ran his palm over Steve’s smooth chest, last night filtering back into his mind. The kidnapping, Obie, the black market deals, the talk he and Steve still needed to have. 

Mind clearer in the light of day, Tony thought back over everything he wanted to say. It was still so complicated, and now SI was falling down around his ears. How was he supposed to bring a weapons company back from illegal arms deals with the very people those weapons were supposed to be defending them from? It was more than a PR nightmare, it was an ethical meltdown. He’d have to rip the whole company apart and find anyone who might have been involved. There would be investigations…

He’d have to rip the whole company apart.

Tony turned the thought around in his mind.  _ If you don’t like your family’s legacy, why don’t you just change it?  _ Steve had said one night, still basking in the afterglow, when Tony had admitted a little more to him about the reasons he’d left home. Change it. He could do that. He needed - he needed Pepper, and room full of press, and - and - pants…

Tony tore around the room, mind a singular focus now, he scrambled a clean suit together, throwing a random tie around his neck. He was halfway out the door when he remembered the man in his bed, he bounced back to Steve’s side and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Steve was an excellent sleeper when he had no alarm to wake him; he would be dead to the world for a while yet. Tony would text him and let him know what was up and they could meet later and talk. Tony grinned; it was a talk he was finally looking forward to having.

As he turned to go, something on the bedside table caught his eye. Steve must not have fallen asleep right away, and he’d taken his phone, wallet, and keys out and laid them on the nightstand. His wallet was open and he’d taken something out, something Tony recognized: the other half of the picture strip Tony carried around everywhere. Tony smiled down at it until his pocket vibrated and set him off again. He had a plan to enact.

He kissed Steve again, who huffed into the sheets in response, and flew out of the house and into the waiting car. He called Pepper on the way to the office, his plan sending her into a complete tizzy. 

“Yeah, but can you make it happen?” he asked.

“Well, of course I can make it happen but - you’re crazy.”

“Get used to it, baby.” Tony grinned as Pepper hung up, catching the beginning of her hollering instructions, spurring her team into action.

By the time Tony arrived at the office, the press were already gathering outside. Pepper was flitting around inside, clicking along the floor in her twenty-five-inch heels. Tony caught her by the arm and spun her around to face him. “Pep, seriously. I didn’t get a chance to say this. I - Thank you.”

She reached up and touched his cheek lightly. “You’re welcome. You ready for this?” Her hand dropped to the knot on his tie, straightening it against his throat.

“Not in the slightest, but I need to do it.”

“It’s going to be insane for a while.”

“I know.” Tony took a deep breath.

“Alright. Everyone’s ready. You can go on in.” She gave his jacket one more tug, and gave him a brilliant smile, then pushed him towards the door. 

Tony stumbled out onto the front steps and looked down at the masses of reporters gathered there. He made it up to the podium, his heart caught in his throat. He remembered seeing Obie and his dad up here, doing the same. Smooth and charming, showing off a new tech development or giving them an update on the direction of the company. They’d left off the bit about black market arms deals and getting so drunk you smacked one of your ten-year-old son’s teeth loose, but that’s what the press was about, wasn’t it? The carefully crafted message.

Tony flattened his palms on the podium. This wasn’t a carefully crafted message - it was a simple one.

“My name is Tony Stark. Effective immediately, I'm shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries until such a time as I can decide what the future of this company will be.” Tony’s vision was completely obliterated by the flashing of cameras. The reporters exploded with questions, but Tony held up a hand until they silenced. “All I can say is that I’m taking control of this company back, and we’ll be changing directions. Dramatically. I want this company to make something I can be proud of.” He went to step away, then bounced back. “Oh, and we’re moving the headquarters to New York. Thank you.”

The press exploded again, but Tony pushed back through the doors into the lobby where Pepper whisked him down the hall, into an empty meeting room. “Are you okay?” She asked. She looked nervous for the first time and Tony was reminded that only a few weeks ago, she had been an intern. They were both figuring this out as they went along,

“I’m great. That was great. Are you okay?”

She grinned. “I’m great, Tony.”

“You’re coming with, right?” Tony asked, bouncing up on the balls of his feet. “To New York?”

Pepper’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Can I - I mean, you want me to?”

“Of course. I can’t do this without you, Pep. You’re my right-hand man. A man with very lovely legs, at that. New York has lots of shoes.” He tipped his head to the side, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. 

Pepper laughed. “Of course I’ll go.”

“Amazing. Wonderful. Now I just need - oh shit.” Tony’s heart stopped. In the flurry, he’d forgotten to text Steve. What if he’d woken up alone and thought Tony was rejecting him and left again? - “I forgot - fuck.” Tony flew out of the meeting room towards the doors, forgetting that the front steps were overrun with eager reporters. But it turned out he wouldn’t need to be leaving at all, because there was Steve, leaning against the doorway to the hall, hands in his pockets, grinning at Tony.

Tony collided with him, Steve’s arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. “That was amazing,” Steve whispered in his ear.

“You saw?” Tony pulled back, keeping a solid grip on Steve, but getting a look at his face. The thing he was doing could only be described as beaming.

“I saw. I mean, first, I woke up alone in your massive house and wandered around in my boxers like an idiot until Jarvis found me and told me you’d gone. I was a little upset, until he turned on the TV and I saw your press conference. Jarvis got me a cab and I came down here as quickly as I could. You were amazing.” Steve kept doing the beaming thing. Then he blushed and dropped his eyes to his feet. “So, you’re moving back to New York, huh?”

“As soon as I can,” Tony said, heart leaping up into his throat. “And… it’s - it’s okay if you don’t want to jump into anything, and I’m going to be really busy with work, so I’ll probably be a shitty boyfriend, but if you - if you want to, I’d… like to… do that. Date, that is. For real. I’m sorry. For running. For not telling you everything. I was terrified. I didn’t think I could possibly be good for you - still not sure about that - but I want to try. I want to fight for us.”

Tony didn’t think Steve’s grin could get any wider, but it did. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and pulled him in close, whispering, “I would love to do that,” against Tony’s lips before drawing him into a deep kiss. The kiss warmed Tony like a shot of whiskey, straight down to his toes. He sunk into Steve’s embrace, twining his arms around his neck, and pulling him in even closer.

When they broke apart, Tony brushed his nose against Steve’s. “Let’s get out of here. I have an entire mansion we need to defile, asap.”

Steve chuckled, running his lips over Tony’s cheek. “Don’t you have all kinds of things to do here? You just made a radical announcement, I can’t believe you’re not swamped with work.”

Tony sighed. “Well, yeah, but I am all about setting a precedent for you distracting me horribly from my responsibilities. I think we should make it a regular thing, and I think we should start now.”

Steve kissed him again, but in the end, he made Tony go back to work, promising to be waiting at the mansion for him when he was done. Tony tried to convince him to stay, not wanting to be apart in case it all turned out to be a mirage, but Steve insisted he’d be a distraction that would make Tony take that much longer to get anything done.

Work did end up sucking Tony in, and it was hours before he staggered out of his office, throat sore from talking and brain sore from thinking. He had ideas, plans, and ideas, and he’d spent the better part of the day just talking them through, let alone enacting any of them. This was going to be a massive undertaking, and he was already exhausted. He was excited at the same time, though. For the first time, he felt like the little projects at home might be worth something more than free rent and an ever-growing stack of graduate degrees. He wasn’t just going to live his life, he was going to change other people’s, and that was amazing.

When the car dropped him off, back at the mansion, he pushed through the front doors and heaved a sigh of relief. It was once more into the breach again tomorrow morning, but for now, he needed to shed this suit, have a stiff drink and -

“Steve.” All his thoughts were instantly consumed by the sight of the man he loved walking out of the living room to greet him.

“Hi, Tony.”

“God, it’s good to see you. Today was wild.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “You were amazing,” he repeated.

Tony hummed happily, burying his face in Steve’s neck. The drink craving was replaced with a new one, though this one still involved shedding his suit. He rolled his hips teasingly and smiled when a small squeak leaked out of Steve’s throat.

“Tony,” he chastised gently. “We don’t have to do that.”

“But we’re so good at it.”

Steve laughed, then leaned back until their eyes met. His expression softened, still warm, but more serious. “You know it’s not about that, right? When I - when I, uh, booked you. It wasn’t about the sex. I would have paid anything just to get to spend more time with you, doing anything. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that wasn’t the case.”

Tony took a deep breath. He fiddled with the hem of Steve’s shirt. “I - I kept telling myself that it was just a job. I knew how you felt, but I  _ couldn’t  _ return your feelings, so I stomped mine down, even though I knew they were there. It was so painful, but getting to see you was so wonderful - I couldn’t give it up. It was never just a job, Steve. Never. I loved you from the start.”

“Me too. I love you.” Steve pulled him back into a hug. They stood that way for a long time, until Tony wriggled free, resting his chin against Steve’s chest, and peering up at him through his lashes.

“Seriously though, I love you, and all the touchy-feely stuff is great, and much needed,  but Steve - I had a crazy day and I would kill to have your cock in my mouth, if you’re at all amenable to that. We can do more sappy talking later. But it’s been weeks and I’ve missed you so much. Also this.” Tony grabbed two handfuls of Steve’s ass. “I’ve missed this a lot.”

Steve laughed. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Ah ah, you can’t back out now. You knew what you were getting in this deal, Rogers. You’re the one with the romantic heart, and I’m the one with the vacuum cleaner mouth. Don’t go putting your thing on me - unless…” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Unless I get to put my thing on you?”

Steve grinned, heated and predatory this time, and lifted Tony right off his feet. He yelped, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist as he marched off towards the bedroom, his mouth dropping to Tony’s neck. Steve couldn’t see, busy sucking a dark bruise into Tony’s collarbone, so Tony directed him by bouncing repeatedly off the walls and doorframes, until Steve found the bed and they both tumbled into it.

They shuffled out of their clothes awkwardly, pausing between every button and zipper to find each other’s mouths again. Once naked, Tony stilled Steve’s frantic kisses and rolled them until he straddled Steve’s hips. He slowed now, running his hands over Steve’s skin, taking it all in, taking the time he’d never let himself take back when this had been something he wasn’t supposed to want.

He shimmied down Steve’s body, drawing his tongue over his chest, flicking his nipples, then dropping to his stomach. Steve breathed out a happy sigh, and sunk into the sheets, letting Tony explore him. Tony found all the places he knew drove Steve crazy and licked and nipped and sucked at them, but when he went to run his tongue up Steve’s length, his cock hard and heavy and leaking against his stomach, Steve’s hand came out to stop him. 

He guided Tony onto his back on the mattress, and kissed him soundly, perching over him. “Let me take care of you this time, Tony? Please?” Steve’s voice was husky and rough with arousal.

All Tony could manage was, “yes,” which sounded more like begging than agreement, and a nod. He let his arms fall to his sides and watched Steve gaze down at him. Steve took Tony in, in much the same way that Tony had enjoyed Steve, his eyes raking over Tony’s body, then following his gaze with his tongue. He liked marking Tony up, he always had, and he wasted no time in latching onto Tony’s side, just below his ribs, and sucking a dark bruise there. Tony moaned, feeling the blood throbbing up to his skin between Steve’s mouth, and between his legs at the same time.

Steve dropped lower, but Tony held out a hand, stopping him, a thought smacking through the pleasure and making his heart sink. “Steve, wait. I don’t have anything here - no condoms - wait.”

Steve pulled back, pouting. Then he blushed. “I - uh. You know, it was always just you. There wasn’t - there hasn’t been anyone else since Peggy, and the army tested me all the time. But -” His blush deepened as he appeared to remember that he wasn’t likely to be the issue. “It’s okay, we can just -”

“Actually…” It was Tony’s turn to be uncomfortable. “I got tested for SI medical insurance stuff when I first got here, all clean. And there hasn’t been anyone for me, not since the night of Wanda’s party. I - I stopped taking clients that night. I deleted my account. Anyway, I was always careful - maybe not as much as I should have been with you…” Tony squirmed. “Anyway,” he repeated. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, with someone who - I mean I won’t be offended if you want to wait until I can get tested again, or whatever. Or if you don’t - Steve, I’m rambling, please god, save me.”

Steve burst out laughing. He ran his palm reverently down Tony’s side. “Tony, I trust you. Completely. If you say you’re good, you’re good. If you want to - I’d love to be able to feel you like that.”

Tony swallowed hard, imaging the heat and slick of Steve’s body around his cock with nothing between them, to feel Steve come down his throat, taste him properly, fill him up. His cock twitched in Steve’s hand and they both smiled. “Yes, I vote yes.”

Steve sunk down again and wrapped his lips around Tony’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head before sliding down, taking Tony in tortuously slowly. Tony gasped and writhed, his hips kicking up against the flat palm Steve had laid there to still him. It was incredible, the brush of Steve’s tongue, the soft slick of his lips, and no barrier between them.

He felt dizzy and wild, Steve’s attention on him almost as intoxicating as the suction around his cock. He moaned, feeling it rattle its way rough out of his throat, and dug his fingers into Steve’s hair. 

Steve pulled back and blinked shyly up at him. “Do you want - I mean, do you have lube? I can keep doing this, but…” His eyes went hazy with lust, gazing at Tony with the look that never failed to send a shiver down his spine.

“Lube doesn’t expire, right? Gotta have some from my - uh - teenage days.”

Steve grinned, predatory. “Oh yeah? What were you getting up to, Tony Stark?” He sucked one of Tony’s nipples between his lips, then nipped at it, making Tony jump.

“Oh, you know, building robots, planning my escape from an oppressive home, shoving dildos in my ass, homework, all the normal teenage stuff.” 

Steve laughed, flopping onto the bed on his side and releasing Tony to rummage through the closet for his old box of naughtiness. He was grateful again that his parents hadn’t touched his room, when he came up with a box that said “DO NOT TOUCH” on the side. Steve laughed again, gazing down at him affectionately from the bed.

It was a testament to how much Tony loved him, that he didn’t feel embarrassed at all, baring the evidence of his uncertain and awkward puberty halfway through sex. For a while, he pulled things out of the box - everything ranging from grade-school love letters to sex toys - and showed them off, telling self-deprecating stories and sharing a few puzzle pieces of his life with Steve. A warmth bloomed in his chest - a different one from the heat Steve usually set ablaze, it was softer, steadier, and lacked urgency. He just wanted to  _ be  _ with the other man. Be near him, talk to him, share everything with him. He did love him, so much, and he never wanted to lose it.

He realized, in a rush, that he’d stopped talking, and Steve was just gazing at him from the bed, still naked, though his erection had flagged while they spoke. Tony shook himself. “Sorry, wow, inappropriately-timed trip down memory lane.” He pulled out a handful of lube packets, still unopened and held them aloft. “Only a little expired.” 

Steve smiled. “Don’t apologize. That was lovely. I love hearing about you. For all the time we spent together, I still feel like I don’t really know much about your life.”

Tony looked back down at the box, gazing at the pieces of his childhood. “You do, Steve, you really do. What I showed you back then - I wasn’t being coy, that was really all I had. It was just me and my research. I had no one, nothing to be proud of, nothing to look forward to. This, this is my past, and I’ll share it all with you, if you like. But it’s nothing compared to what I hope my future will be. With you.” Tony felt his cheeks heating again and stood, crawling back onto the bed and covering Steve’s body with his own. 

He dipped down to kiss Steve, hard and heated, and when he pulled back Steve’s pupils had blown wide again and his cock was full and leaking against Tony’s thigh. “What do you want?” Tony whispered, rocking his hips so their cocks slid together, bare and so smooth. 

“You. Everything. All of it. I want everything you’ll give me,” Steve gasped out, arching into the contact.

Tony pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve got you.” He grabbed the lube and ripped it open, pleased to find it was still good. They were old hat at this now - he knew where to touch Steve to make him gasp, how hard to grip his cock, when he was loose and ready enough to take Tony in, but it felt new and fresh and different this time. When he’d worked Steve open - and into a writhing mess on the bed - he stroked his slick fist over his cock, shuddering and the smooth slide on his bare skin and then  _ fuck  _ the feel of Steve as he pressed the head of his cock against his hole. The heat, the easy slide into his body with nothing between them. It was incredible.

“Oh my god,” Tony breathed out. His eyes found Steve’s and all the words he’d always wanted to say, but couldn’t, welled up within him. “You feel amazing. I can’t believe you'll share this with me, it’s too much, it blows my mind. I love you so much. I wish I could show you how much I -”

Steve tugged Tony down into a kiss, rocking his hips up to meet Tony’s slow, steady thrusts.  “I know,” he whispered against Tony’s lips, his voice rough and cracking. “I love you too. This is - ah - this feels so good. I’m -” Steve broke off into a moan as Tony shifted, hooking his arms under Steve’s thighs and bringing his knees up towards his chest. Steve’s hands found his back, digging nails into his shoulder blades and sending a flood of pleasure-pain down his spine. Tony plunged in, hitting Steve’s prostate and watched his mouth fall open and his eyes roll back. “Holy shit,” Steve gasped out, breaking each syllable in half with a choppy moan. His hand dropped between them to wrap around his own cock as Tony plowed into him. 

“There’s nothing I love more than watching you come, gorgeous. It’s like a miracle seeing you fall to pieces. You’re so giving, it’s so -” Tony cut off as Steve bit his lip hard, his whole body tensing and locking around Tony’s cock. “God, yes, come for me, please,” Tony begged, only managing shallow, sharp thrusts - breath gone, arms shaking, halfway to breaking. Steve panted out a short breath, a whimper coming out with it, and then he was coming, shooting all over his own chest, and spilling over his fist. His eyes snapped up and locked with Tony’s - awed and a bit lost - and Tony didn’t want it to be over so fast, had wanted this first  _ real  _ time together to last, but  _ fuck  _ it was so good. And who cared, they had a whole lifetime of this ahead of them. He pressed forward again, once, twice, and then the tension in his core broke, unravelling wildly inside him as he pulsed deep inside Steve.

He slumped down onto Steve’s chest, still heaving under him, and he was struck with the same heavy guilt he had always been before, the rushing in of remembrance that he needed to leave. But this time he didn’t have to leave. This time, there wasn’t anything hanging over him. He leaned back, up on his hands and looked down at Steve, smiling and sated. Steve’s hands came up and cupped his cheeks. “You okay?”

Tony nodded, kissed him, then pulled back again. “Yeah, it’s just - I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re really here, doing this. That you’re here. That it’s real.”

Steve stretched, long and lithe, and grinned, shifting from dopey to cocky in a heartbeat. “Yeah, I mean, who knew all I had to do was follow you across the country, proclaim my love for you, and help rescue you from a kidnapping plot in order to get all this for free?”

Tony smacked his chest lightly. “Hey! I was worth it, wasn’t I?”

“The travel and rescue, or the money?”

Tony shrugged. “Both.”

Steve’s smile slipped smaller, out of joking and back into serious. “You’re worth the world to me, Tony.”

Tony beamed back down at him, petting his hands lightly over the place he’d smacked just a moment ago. “That’s good, because I’m really,  _ really  _ expensive now. Just saying.”

Steve laughed, low and rich, and wrapped his arms around Tony’s back, spinning them until Tony was underneath and Steve covered him with his warm weight.  It all felt so possible, so easy, knowing Steve would be by his side. He could do this. They could do this.

This was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left which I will post very soon! Thank you for reading/commenting/kudosing <3 <3 <3


	7. Epilogue

Tony shoved his shirt back into his pants, tugging the line of buttons straight and smoothing the sleeves of his jacket. He looked up at Steve. “Darling, you look like you got dragged through a hedge backwards.” Steve grinned dopily at him. “Okay, you look like you got dragged through a hedge backwards and really enjoyed it.”

Steve slipped a hand under Tony’s suit jacket to rest it lightly on his hip. “I did really enjoy it.”

“You’re going to scandalize Sam’s grandmother.”

“Oh no, she’s unscandalizable,” Steve slurred.

“That’s not even a word.” Tony reached out and tried to smooth Steve’s hair out, but it was as if Tony’s desperate, scrabbling fingers had put permanent furrows in it.

“It’s a word if I want it to be a word.”

Tony eyed Steve suspiciously. “Did I suck your brain out of your dick? Cause you’re talking nonsense, sweetie.”

Steve knocked Tony’s hands away from where they were desperately trying to straighten Steve’s tux, and pulled him in close. Tony yelped as Steve pushed him against the wall, next to a rack of coats. The noise from the party drowned out the sound, but Tony bit his lip to silence himself further, his skin heating.

“Did you think you were getting out of here without retribution?” Steve asked, voice heavy and laced with dangerous promise.

All the blood in Tony’s body flooded south, pulling all the words down with it as it drained out of his head. “Um?”

“That’s what I thought. If I’m going to be stupid and happy at this thing, I’m taking you down with me.” Steve slid to his knees between Tony’s legs and pawed at his belt. 

“Oh my god. What have I done to you? You used to be so nice and innocent. You used to get all blushy when I said we should do it on the couch instead of in a bed and now you’re going to suck me off in a coat room. I’m supposed to be the bad one. It took a year and a half to get you to say coc- _ gahh!”  _ Steve, having finally freed Tony from his pants, sucked him down to the base in one go. “Holy shit.” Tony cracked his head against the wall behind him and thanked the gods for the loud party music once again.

Steve’s mouth rolled around his cock, drawing back, then swallowing him down again. He was so wet and hot and his tongue brushed the underside of the shaft, right over the spot under the head that drove Tony crazy. He forgot about the party and their fancy clothes, deepening the wild furrows in Steve’s hair and thrusting into his mouth. Steve moaned, and that spurred Tony on further. He loved fucking Steve’s mouth almost as much as Steve loved getting his mouth fucked. Tony slid in slow, revelling in every inch that got lost to Steve’s heat, then pulled back and pushed in again, harder. His rhythm quickened, and Steve’s hands locked around the back of his thighs, sliding up to tease Tony’s ass, then falling again to grip, holding on for dear life. It was also Steve’s beautiful way of saying, “Take whatever you want,” and Tony did.

He hooked his palm around the back of Steve’s head to hold him steady and plunged down his throat over and over, Steve’s moans vibrating down the length of his cock as his eager mouth took him deeper and deeper. Tony had already been halfway there, high on the blowjob he’d given Steve first, and it wasn’t long before his balls tightened and he felt his orgasm building in the base of his cock.

“I’m almost there, gorgeous, I’m going to come down your throat. You want that?” He looked down and Steve’s eyes flicked open, meeting his. He looked utterly debauched and heart-stoppingly sinful, with his lips stretched wide around Tony’s cock, pink and wet, and his eyes, saying yes, saying please,  _ begging  _ for Tony to give it to him.

He slammed into Steve’s mouth one more time and held him there, shooting hot down his throat and cutting off a guttural cry when Steve swallowed around him. 

“Fuck,” Tony pulled free, unable to stop the groan as the air hit his spent cock. “God, you’re incredible.” Steve  _ licked his fucking lips  _ and gazed up adoringly at Tony, still on his knees. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Steve stood and pressed his chest to Tony’s, caging him against the wall. He kissed him, Tony tasting himself on Steve’s tongue, mixing it with the taste of Steve he was still treasuring from earlier. “Love you,” Steve said softly.

Tony laughed. “I can tell.” He winked and pulled Steve in for another kiss. “Love you too.”

“We should probably get back.” Steve sighed, his hands wandering under Tony’s jacket again.

“We should absolutely get back. Or…”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh. “Nah, we really should. But I have plans for you when we get home.”

They took turns alternating between trying to straighten each other out, and ruining their own hard work by mussing each other up again. Then, finally deeming their wrinkled shirts and crooked ties good enough, they slipped back out into the party.

The ceremonies were all over before they’d slipped off, and now so was dinner. Long buffet tables covered in desserts and coffee lined the edges of the copious dance floor, filled with happy couples.

“Dance with me,” Tony said, and Steve rolled his eyes, but complied. 

As they spun, Tony let his eyes flit around the room. It still made him nervous, being among this sort of crowd, always on edge that someone would recognize him, or confront him about his old life. It wasn’t as heavy a worry anymore. In a miracle of modern media, the first outlet to pick up Tony’s hooker story was the slimiest, filthiest, most slanderous tabloid on the shelf. They ran the story with glee, between an expose on politicians who were actually aliens and a photo set about radically modified celebrity beach bodies. They were so disreputable, the story became something no one else would touch with a ten-foot pole, seen as the stuff of sensationalist rags. Some of the “classier” tabloids and entertainment magazines gently outed Tony as gay, instead, printing pictures of him and Steve holding hands at a restaurant, or kissing outside The Church, but the escort story was largely ignored. Tony suspected Pepper had something to do with it all, though she wouldn’t admit to anything. He sent her a bouquet of shoes anyway. 

But even after all that, Tony still worried. He suspected Steve’s willingness to participate in their cloakroom dalliance was partially because Steve was a filthy degenerate who was always up for anything naughty, and partially because he was trying to take Tony’s mind off the pressures of the party. Running SI meant Tony chose what he went to and what he didn’t, these days, but this hadn’t been the sort of thing he could brush off.

The song ended, and Steve kissed Tony’s forehead then started to lead him back to their table. A young man with bright eyes stopped them halfway across the room. 

“Excuse me, Tony Stark, right?” Tony tensed, and felt Steve do the same. He flashed back to Ty, briefly, but he didn’t recognize this man, didn’t think he’d been a client, so he nodded. “You’re the mad inventor who lives in a church, right?” He grabbed Tony’s hand and shook it enthusiastically as Tony nodded again, in surprise this time. He and Steve had renovated The Church extensively, but it was still as bizarre as it was when he’d lived there before. Alphonse, Nick, and Twitch still presided over the bedroom, now a decadent space up on a plinth, jutting out over the workshop. “Your work on robotic limbs is incredible. I’m a colleague of Dr. Cho and I’ve love to talk to you more about it. Oh, and congratulations on the award, your work absolutely deserves it. Revolutionary.”

“Wow, uh thanks.” Tony reclaimed his hand gently. He pulled a card out of his pocket, and Steve handed him a pen. He wrote one word on the card and held it out to the man. “The codeword is ‘Pickle’. Call my assistant, she’ll fast-track you for a meeting. He shook the man’s hand again and leaned in closer. “Don’t let Justin Hammer get his hands on that card, he’s been gunning for one all night.” The man laughed, thanked Tony, and disappeared back into the crowd, clutching the card like he’d received an award of his own that night.

Steve dragged Tony back to their table and deposited him in his chair, collapsing next to him with a happy sigh. Tony poked the gold statue in front of him, then ran the pad of his finger lightly over the name engraved on the base, “Tony Stark.”

Steve leaned over, pressing his lips to Tony’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Tony.”

Tony’s hand snapped out and caught the side of Steve’s face before he could pull away. He pressed their foreheads together. “Steve? I - seriously - there’s  _ no way  _ I could have done any of this without you. You’re everything to me.” Steve grinned at him, and Tony’s heart skipped a few beats. “You should probably marry me.”

Steve’s eyes widened, his smile dropping off his face to be replaced with shock. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I have a ring with me and everything, I just - you know. Uhh - I seriously, albeit briefly, considered asking you in an email so while I apologize for the terrible timing and, really, all of it - cause we just sucked each other off in a coat closet, so there’s that. Maybe not the most romantic thing I could have done, but apparently the words wouldn’t stay in my head any longer so… and I could do the whole knee thing but I feel like you wouldn’t want me to make a scen-”

Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips, cutting him off, and, when he pulled back, a brilliant smile bloomed across his face. His eyes flicked away and Tony followed their path, seeing a crowd of their friends approaching. Steve brought his lips back to Tony’s ear. “Yes.”

This time it was Tony’s turn to look shocked. “Are you serious?”

Steve’s eyes flicked to their approaching friends again. “Yeah. Gimmie.”

Tony laughed, sliding the ring box out of his pocket and handing it to Steve under the table, just as the gang arrived. Their friends fell into chairs around the table, laughing and chatting with each other. Steve popped the ring box open under the table, and Tony watched his face, vibrating with the tension of waiting for his reaction. The ring was red and gold, the two colours Steve always gently mocked Tony for choosing consistently for his projects, and made out of a gold-titanium alloy he’d cooked up in the shop that would withstand pretty much anything. Steve slipped it out of the box and slid it on his finger, then reached over and grabbed the front of Tony’s tux. He gazed at him in absolute adoration for a moment, then kissed him soundly. Tony’s head spun. He honestly couldn't remember ever being so happy in his entire life.

“Get a room!” Bucky yelled from the other side of the table. 

Tony waggled his eyebrows at him, as Steve slid back in his chair, cheeks colouring. “We already did. It’s full of coats, but still plenty of space for fun. Yours was the grey one with the black on the sleeves, right? Yeah, sorry Barnes, bill me for the dry cleaning.” Half the table groaned and half laughed. Clint glared at Tony, smacking his hands over Wanda’s ears, who rolled her eyes and shoved them away.

Steve elbowed Tony as Sam appeared, his elderly grandmother on his arm. He deposited her in a chair next to Steve. “There you are, Nan. I’m going to get you some cheesecake.” He kissed her on the cheek.

Sam’s Nan smiled brilliantly at Steve and Tony. “What a lovely party!”

Steve patted her arm. “I’m so glad you could come,” he said politely. The rest of the table broke out in chatter again, but she leaned in, drawing the pair towards her. Steve’s hand found Tony’s under the table, and Tony couldn't help but run his fingers over the ring, spinning it around Steve’s finger and feeling his heart stutter in his chest with every revolution.

“So.” Sam’s grandmother beamed at them. “You make such a lovely couple. How did you two meet?”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to Steve’s. His eyes glowed with the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen. Tony grinned, then opened his mouth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks! Thank you for reading, you guys are the best!! <3 <3 <3


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